Danger, Deceit
by The Narrator
Summary: Two years after the Century War, Avatar Aang & Fire Lord Zuko attempt to win the peace. Behind the scenes in the Fire Nation's Royal Palace, a young noblewoman wages her own war, where the battlefield is the Court and words & alliances are the weapons.
1. Book 01, Prologue 01

"_Fallaces sunt rerum species_." ("The appearances of things are deceptive.")  
- Seneca

A war does not end when the weapons are cast aside and the armies go home; a war continues in the peace, in the wounds of the people, in sorrow and hatred excited by suffering. A war does not end when the flags no longer fly above the battlefield; a war continues in the hearts of the people until grievances are redressed and "justice" is satisfied. A war does not end simply in the words "It is over;" a war continues because it is human nature...

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**Prologue .01: Under Lake Laogai (21st Year of Kuei,* Late Spring) **

[_No one is dead until he is dead and buried._]

* * *

"Can you save him?"

"Give me a second… damn, that little girl was right. I think I can keep his heart beatin' and hold his insides together, but we need to get him to my master, _now_."

"You two, bend a stretcher."

"Careful! You tryin' to rip him apar'? Slow, now. Someone grab my canteen for me."

"Take the fourth and eighth passages to my office. Your master's waiting for you."

"… Fuuu, you had this all planned out, didn' you. Figures."

"Tell them we're clearing out the operation, once you've finished with him. I'll join you after I've made sure no one else is prying around."

"You do that, love. Just don' get killed off now."

"I don't intend to."

* * *

"Considering how that rock just about caved in his ribs, it's a miracle we pulled him through."

"He's a fighter, a damned stubborn one. If I hadn't taken him to fourth-level, the Secretariat would have liquidated him."

"Hoo, that much brainwashing, and he still shook free? Here I was thinking you wanted to save him out of guilt or somethin'."

"You're not very generous, are you?"

"Tch, I'm _very_ generous, I just call cat gator-shit when it's cat gator-shit. What about the other two?"

"They were escorted to the Third Ring, and given money and passes to take them wherever they please."

"Ooohh, so now that you've gotten what you want, you think it's all right to kick the dead weight to the sewer pit, is that it?"

"I don't like…"

"Dey's _kids_, dammit! You coulda done the decent thing and taken 'em clear of the city all together!"

"We don't have the resources or the time to…"

"Pffft, don' give me the old "priorities" speech. I've heard it enough. I jus… oh, to hell with it! I wish I was back home! Occupation's better'n all dis cloak-and-dagger shit, wid our own damned people!"

"Then stay around. The Fire Nation will be knocking on the Palace's gates in a few days."

"… What? But, the Avatar's…"

"The Avatar is a child, his companions are children, and the King might as well be a child. The drill was hardly the Fire Nation's most deadly weapon."

"So that's why you're closing up shop. You're cuttin' and runnin' 'fore de big fight, aren' you?"

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the…"

"BULLSHIT! Do you know what de Fire Nation's gonna do to dis city once de get deir filthy claws in'o it? I do, an' if you tink I'm goin' to…!"

"We've been ordered to shut down and pull out. The Secretariat will throw in with the invader, and we'd be discovered and purged, without making a difference. Simple as that. Were it up to me, I'd be manning the walls, alone if I had to, but at least this way, the Society will have full documentation of the Dai Li's methods and crimes. The War must end, and if my city has to be sacrificed to end it, then…"

"… I'm sorry."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don' be getting all prissy-manners on me, love, you know what I'm saying. I… I know you think you're doing what's right, that you think your hands are tied. My master probably agrees with you. But I still think we're running like cowards, like we always have. When do we get to _fight_? I don'… I don' think we can wait for the Avatar."

"Neither do I. I'm leaving the city with the boy, joining the camp. We'll be moving the base of operations south… you're more than welcome to come along, if you want. Everyone else is going their separate ways."

"I'll see what my master says; we might come part of the way with you. But I think she wants to be gettin' on home, after all this time."

"I understand. I'll gladly take what time you can spare."

"Ooo, you do know how to sweet-talk a girl, being all noble like that."

"Does that sort of thing impress you?"

"Would I be sticking around, with the walls falling around us, if it didn'?"

"Point taken."

"About the boy… you'll make him a Guard, won' you."

"Yes. As far as the world's concerned, he died down here. Now he can carry on his fight alongside other dead men, free of former loyalties and concerns. A better fate than what Long Feng handed him."

"… I guess we all gotta tell ourselves little lies to get by. Just do me a favor: don' empty him out like you did some of the others. That… that never set well with me."

"I might not have a choice. But as I said, he's a stubborn little bastard; I doubt even level-six programming can erase all his grief and hatred."

"You know, before I met you, something like that would have horrified me. Now, all I can think is, 'Thank goodness, he'll have something to keep him alive.' How twisted am I?"

"Only twisted as you let the world make you. One day, we'll be able to set it all right again…"

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**A/N:** * The numbering of years in this series is based on the Japanese era calendar scheme, in which the era is designated by the name of the Emperor, followed by the year of his reign (ex: 2010 in the Western calendar is Heisei 22, the 22nd year of the reign of Emperor Akihito ["Hesei" being the_ teigo_ - the posthumous Buddhist name of the Emperor - though I'm not quite sure why the death name is the tradition, or how it's chosen]).

In the case of the Avatarverse, for the sake of simplicity, I am naming the era according to the canonical name of the character, instead of making up a _teigo_ for them. Also, the era name will be tied to where the chapter/book takes place - Earth King-era name in case of chapters taking place in the Earth Kingdom, Fire Lord-era name in the case of chapters taking place in the Fire Nation.


	2. Book 01, Prologue 02

**Prologue .02: Fire Nation (1st Year of Zuko, Late Summer) **

[_Denique non omnes eadem mirantur amantque._]  
(All men do not admire and love the same things.)  
- Horace

* * *

'_I should have known better…' _The Avatar's return, the Fire Nation's defeat… no, not defeat; a surrender. And because of that…

Mai jerked her head to one side, closing her eyes against the bitterness that darkened her reminisce. It had only been a year ago, less even, when she had held Zuko's hand, watching the noisy, giddy celebration of the Avatar and his gang in Iroh's teashop in newly-liberated Ba Sing Se. She had even relaxed enough to chat and trade jokes with former enemies, now allies by default, thanks to her relationship with Zuko. Zuko, the formerly exiled prince, who had scoured the world for the Avatar, seeking his father's approval under the guise of reclaiming his "honor." Zuko, the turncoat, who had betrayed his country, betrayed her, for the sake of a cause she had not believed in, a cause she only accepted because of him.

Zuko, her first love, the new Fire Lord.

Mai could admit to herself, here, now, that she had been a little jealous then, seeing the way Zuko seemed so at ease, so playful with the smart-mouthed earthbender, the Avatar's girlfriend, her strange brother, the Kyoshi Warrior; nothing at all like he had been after siding with Azula in the caverns beneath Ba Sing Se. That time, Mai had gotten what she wanted, or assumed she had: Zuko, after some prodding, admitted to his own secret childhood crush, and they quickly went about making up for lost time.

'_And the only reason we did … __**could**__ do anything about was because Azula wanted to use us_,' Mai interjected. '_Too bad she never counted on how unhappy Zuko was after Ba Sing Se…'_

It helped to blame Azula. Mai could go further, blaming it on Ozai, the back-stabbing politics of nobles in the Court, the war. But every once and a while, especially in the days following the discovery of that wretched scroll on her bed, she had wondered if she had been a source of unhappiness as well.

Zuko had done everything in his power since then to reassure her how wrong she was, how blameless. But that was the problem; even the Fire Lord's power had its limits.

That much became clear the day they cut their idyllic "victory holiday" short, fleeing Ba Sing Se as riots between displaced refugees and the different factions jockeying for power in the wake of the Dai Li's fall from grace exploded under the broiling late summer sun. The Avatar had moved quickly into the role of mediator, and Iroh had sent his nephew and Mai post-haste back to the Fire Nation under White Lotus Society protection.

It was only later that Mai would learn of the assassination plots against Zuko, engineered by various groups in the city with every reason to seek vengeance against the ultimate symbol of the nation that had rampaged through their country for a century. Zuko would never tell her how close it had been, but given the way his lips thinned and his fists clenched whenever she brought it up, it must have been close indeed.

Escaping the Earth Kingdom had been tense enough, but they had, in essence, jumped from the cliff's edge into the vipers' nest. Zuko arrived in the capital just in time to head off a serious challenge to his throne from one of Ozai's old generals. Thankfully, the Royal Guard had proved ruthlessly loyal. Within days, the troublemaker was thrown into the Iron Tower, never to be seen or heard from again; it was widely rumored that the Captain of the Guard, disposing of all legal niceties, had outright executed the man. Supporters of the failed coup vanished into the shadows, or fell over themselves to reconfirm their allegiance to Fire Lord Zuko.

And it had not ended there. Mai grimaced, clasping her folded hands together under the flowing sleeves of her horrid white robe. No sooner than the coup had fizzled out, word came of armies on the Continent still fighting because communications had broken down and news of the war's end had yet to reach the farthest edges of the Fire Nation's still-expanding empire. The Avatar imposed a temporary peace on the chaos of Ba Sing Se, but it soon became apparent that a new Earth King had to assume the throne or the Kingdom would tear itself apart. Without any firm plan, the Avatar went off in search of someone capable of taking the crown abandoned by Kuei.

Farther south, Earth Kingdom refugees returning to their homes fought to reestablish claims usurped by Fire Nation settlers. Sometimes, they were satisfied just chasing off the newcomers, but more often, there were scores to settle, lost sons and daughters, murdered relatives, and other atrocities to avenge. Fire Army soldiers could not simply stand by and let their fellow countrymen be massacred, but some commanders were not as judicious in their tactics as others.

The Army was fragmenting, tearing itself apart as senior officers who had become warlords in all but name surveyed the vast territories of the Continent with the eyes of personal ambition. Whole regiments of the once-invincible divisions vanished piecemeal into the wilderness as soldiers simply walked away, seeking a new life on the Continent, or made for the coast, yearning for the homeland many had not seen in years. Fire Nation colonial governors, holed up in their various mansions, sent scroll after scroll to the Palace, demanding that the Fire Lord hand over control of military units in their territories in order to defend their holdings, and hinting at the possibility of secession should Zuko prove hesitant.

Faced with threats from all sides, from the farthest reaches of the Continent to the halls of the Palace itself, Zuko shouldered the burden of rule and charged headlong into a battle far more dangerous than any he had fought in the war.

And Mai could not help him. Oh, she could be there when he had a moment to spare, to provide a lap to rest his head on, an ear to listen to what troubles he deigned to share with her, but all too soon, the world would demand his attention, and he would be swept away into dark rooms and whispered conferences in which she had no part. The only experience she had of politics were from her parents, useless socialites that they were, or secondhand by way of Azula.

In the case of the latter, Mai could not think of a single worse instructor in the ways of governance, least of all for the type of rule Zuko so desperately wanted for his country.

It had been with a tinge of resentment that Mai stood beside Zuko, welcoming his Uncle Iroh back to the Palace, mere months after their flight from Ba Sing Se. The old man had resigned himself to coming out of retirement, closing his tea shop and sending word ahead to his nephew. Zuko had been so overjoyed, so relieved, as if his uncle were some magic talisman that could keep the danger away. And, at first, Iroh proved to be just that, skillfully building up a network of former comrades and allies, rallying them to Zuko's banner and quieting the dark mutters of unsatisfied nobles (or, at least, forcing them to whisper). But even the Dragon of the West was a mere man, and soon outer islands, power bases removed from the capital, began to stir with the echoes of secession that were growing louder on the Continent.

Mai hated feeling helpless, hated the way it made her wrists itch with the memory of the iron manacles that had weighted her down in the bowels of the Boiling Rock after her one display of outright defiance in the face of Azula's madness. She had done it for Zuko, but that one sacrifice was simply that: a single event, a temporary saving grace, and now the world cruelly demanded things she could not give because she did not know how.

And then…

A muted _gong!_ shook Mai out of her reminiscence. Glancing up, she saw the Fire Sage looking back at her through the sweet-scented smoke of the ceremonial pyre. The elderly man motioned her forward, his kind face all the more irritating for the sad, sympathetic smile he gave her. Mai climbed the wide, shallow steps, trying to ignore the whispers behind her, knowing that everyone was staring at her back, watching like raven-eagles for her to break down, to show weakness. At the top of the steps, she halted, the shifting heat of the flames pressing into her through the thick cloth of her robe.

"The names shall be entered into the annals," the Fire Sage intoned as a young acolyte, dressed in a white robe of simpler design than Mai's, shuffled over to the girl, presenting an open ledger, a calligraphy brush, and a hollowed out disk of basalt containing black ink on a wide tablet.

Without a word, Mai took the brush and dipped it full into the ink. Gathering back her sleeve, she scrawled her father's name between the first two red lines, followed by her mother's, then her brother's, before placing the brush on the tablet. The acolyte bowed his head over the book and backed away.

"We now commit their effigies to the flame, that their spirits need no longer wander in vain," announced the Fire Sage, turning back to the raised platform behind him. Mai forced herself to keep her eyes on his hands as the sage raised three hand-sized planks of cypress, marked with the same names she had just inscribed in the book, high over the flames. "We lay you to rest, Nianzu of the noble house of Sun, governor of New Ozai and loyal servant of our nation."

Her father's plank fell into the fire, out of sight below the lip of the hollow block of stone that contained the pyre, the flames leaping as they devoured the effigy.

"We lay you to rest, Yuming of the noble house of Sun, wife of Nianzu and mother of Tom-Tom, now passed, and Mai."

Her mother followed her father.

"We lay you to rest, Tom-Tom of the noble house of Sun, son of Nianzu and Yuming, now passed, and brother of Mai. May you be with your beloved parents from this day hence."

Tom-Tom's effigy bounced against the stone lip, jumping out of the fire and clattering on the ground at Mai's feet. Shocked mutters like tall grass disturbed by a strong wind whirled around Mai as she stared at the effigy. Without a thought, she bent down and tossed the plank of ink-stained wood into the fire, turning away so she could not see the way the flames leapt. Looking down the steps, past the white-robed people who were waiting, just as she had, to enter their dead relatives' names into the annals and burn their effigies, out over the courtyard where distant relatives and other nobles milled about in festival robes, Mai felt her eyes burn from the smoke. But she could not, would not betray tears, not with this many people looking at her, not…!

A warm, familiar had slid into hers. "Let's go, Mai," Zuko said quietly, ignoring the upsurge of whispers that greeted his unheralded appearance on the funerary dais.

"Right," Mai agreed, squeezing his hand to guard against the urge to run down the steps, fleeing the hostile stares and whispers, the crackle of hungry flame, and the perfume of death offerings.

* * *

**A/N:** The use of effigies (also called spirit tablets/seats - _ihai _in the Japanese) originated in China, where the name and the characters composing it have the power to effectively represent the person's "place" in the mortal world, if not the last physical vestige of their soul.

I am referencing Japanese tradition (this time the modern Shinto) to create a scene of symbolic cremation in accordance with the funerary rituals shown in the show. The time-frame of "late summer" is meant to align the day and the festival with the Ghost Festival in Chinese tradition (normally taking place in the middle of the eighth month of the lunar calendar) – also known as _Obon_ in Japanese Buddhist tradition, though I have dispensed with the actual practices of the celebration from our world, and substituted the "confirmation of death" ceremony in this instance instead.


	3. Book 01, Chapter 01: POLITICS

**-Danger,Deceit-  
Book 01.: Fire Nation  
Chapter .01: POLITICS **

(2nd Year of Zuko, Mid-Summer)

[_A storm announces itself in the rustling of leaves._]

* * *

It could not be right, a Fire Lord having to hide in his own palace just to get a moment's peace, but that was how it ended up.

"I thought you liked the turtle-duck pond," Mai noted, sprawling across the uncomfortable bench under the open window and leaning her head against the bookcase as Zuko tossed his gold crown on the tidy secretary desk beside her. "Whose office is this anyway?"

"Dunno." Zuko shrugged and plopped down near Mai's feet, working at the hairpiece his crown was mounted on. "Someone in the Ministry of Ceremonies, most likely."

"Hm." Mai sat up and shooed Zuko's fumbling fingers away from his topknot, flicking the clasp that locked the band of crimson enamel and gold in place. Zuko heaved a deep sigh of relief as his hair fell free.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, playing with a lock of his hair. "Hope you brought a comb to put it back up with."

"Hrphmgle," was Zuko's incoherent reply before he turned his head, giving her a light kiss on the lips. Sweet as the gesture was, there was no follow-through. Zuko was distracted, as was becoming the usual for him. At first it had been fun, meeting like this in the precious minutes they could steal from his hectic schedule, ducking into side gardens, hallways, or anonymous rooms such as this office, laughing at their misbehavior, caught up in each others' presence. But someone always found them, something, whether a trifling bit of bureaucratic finagling or a genuine crisis, always took him away… and they never seemed to bridge the distance anymore.

"What's wrong?" Mai asked, trying hard to sound sympathetic and inviting; frustration, she had discovered, did not do much to make Zuko open up to her. Anxious as she was to talk about certain disturbing rumors flying around the Court, Zuko obviously had enough on his mind.

"Minister Loc's been pushing for a decision on my appointment to Chancellor again," Zuko said after pause. "It's pretty clear he's angling for the job, and since he's Minister of the Interior, it makes sense…"

"But?" Mai prompted.

Zuko shrugged, slumping back against the window sill and closing his eyes. "I want Uncle Iroh to be my Chancellor."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but only just barely. "Then appoint him your Chancellor. He pretty much is, anyway." Not that the title of "Chancellor" meant anything anymore, not since Ozai stripped the office of its powers when he took the throne.

"Uncle Iroh doesn't want it," Zuko replied, sounding both helpless and annoyed. "He's accepted being called 'High Counselor' only because the traditionalists in the Council insisted that he hold an official title in order to take part in the Cabinet. Now that they've gotten that, they want more of the old ways revived; too many of them remember what it was like in the 'glory days' of Azulon. It's like they're trying to test me, to see how I measure up to Fire Lords past."

"That's stupid," Mai said with vehemence that made Zuko chuckle. Unlike the nobles who seized an opportunity to gain power under Ozai and now faced ruin because of their opportunistic dealings (like her parents, who had paid the ultimate price for their ambition), the conservative faction had seen Ozai as a usurper and resisted his rule.

At first. Lady Ursa had not been the only prominent noble to suddenly and inexplicably vanish during the first year or so of Ozai's reign. It was still an uphill battle to prove to nobles who had lost family in the purges that Zuko was more than a mere usurper of a usurper. Seemingly petty points of order, such as the revival of the title of Chancellor, assumed what Mai saw as ridiculous amounts of importance. "Ridiculous," in that it infuriated her to see Zuko so stymied by a bunch of old men and women when he was trying to do the right thing.

"Hmmm," Zuko sighed drowsily, a breeze puffing strands of hair over his face. The afternoon sun highlighted the darkening smudges under his eyes; he looked exhausted. Mai knew it would be heartless of her to poke him awake just to talk to her for a couple minutes more.

'_Might as well go out and see if I can't keep anyone from finding this place for a bit, and leave it until next time,_' she thought, still half-tempted to take an inked brush to his face as a warning toward napping during future liaisons. But just as she slid off the bench, Zuko sat bolt-upright, his fingers curling around her wrist.

"I wasn't sleeping!" he exclaimed. "I'm aw-_hrfglm_!"

"Do you _want_ someone to find us here?" Mai hissed, her hand clamped on his mouth. For once, she was glad that the Palace Guard insisted that all weapons be surrendered to the Captain of the Watch before entering the Inner Palace; people tended to react badly when a gauntlet full of pointy objects was shoved into their peripheral vision.

"Sorry," Zuko muttered as Mai took her hand away. He smiled, his single eyebrow quirked in embarrassment. "I just… didn't want you walking out on me just yet."

"Well, don't fall asleep on me and I wouldn't have to," said Mai, blushing; he had to know what that chastened puppy-grin of his did to her!

"Sit here; that'll make sure that I don't nod off," Zuko said, pulling Mai into his lap just as she resumed her seat beside him.

"It'd better," she replied, pretending to be put-out even as she nudged her head under his chin, twining the fingers of her left hand with his right.

Zuko chuckled, the tenor of his laugh making her heart leap just a little. It was nice to just sit here, she supposed, to simply be together, not talking about troublesome things…

"There was another attempt on my father. Poison in his food again."

Mai groaned to herself, pressing her face against his collarbone and willing Zuko to pick up on her mental command to just be quiet and enjoy the silence for a bit, or at least kiss her if he had to use his lips for something.

No such luck. "Your uncle's investigating the conspiracy, and he'll be making his offical report to me and the Council tomorrow. He's already recommended replacing the senior staff. I don't think the Iron Tower's had such a high turnover rate since the Superintendence Troubles."

'_Hrrrrrr…_' "That's three times since he's been in there. There's been half a dozen "rescue" attempts. Why can't you just lock him up with Azula on the Boiling Rock?" Mai wanted to know, struggling not to be irked by his skewed priorities. "Even though you and that Water Tribe boy managed to spring some prisoners, no one's even tried to break her out of there; it's still the most secure prison in the Fire Nation."

Zuko's silence was not the reply she wanted this time. "Zuko," she said, looking up at him and tilting his face down to hers with a gentle but firm hand, "you told me yourself you expected stuff like this, so why…?"

"My mother…" Zuko started to say, but stopped when he saw the expression on Mai's face. "I know, I know, it's the one hold he still has on me, and he's never going to give it up, but, I… I don't know. If I can keep an eye on him, keep him close…"

'_If Lady Ursa were still alive, she'd have come back long ago._' Of course, Mai never said this aloud, burying it deep lest Zuko see it in her eyes. Any scrap of hope, foolish as it might be, was worth letting him hold onto, in the face of everything else that was wrong in his life, right?

"Any word from Aang about your mother?" she said instead. "He said he'd look for her while looking for Kuei's successor, and Qiang's been the Earth King for almost a year. He must have found something out by now."

"If he did, he hasn't had time to tell me," replied Zuko. "It wasn't enough to put Qiang on the throne, even if Aang is the Avatar. Proving Qiang's birthright, explaining why he was serving in King Bumi's palace guard, stringing together a coalition to support him… he's had his hands full. Between the Dai Li and Fire Nation occupation _and_ the riots afterward, the old ruling class was pretty much wiped out or fled Ba Sing Se; you'd think that would've simplified things, but now Earth King has to draw support from all three circles of the city and beyond in order to rule." He smiled, though the expression was more grim and ironic than good-natured. "Compared to that mess, I've had it easy. Not to mention, I'd rather have Uncle Iroh backing me up than a madman like Bumi."

"… Aang thought _Bumi_ was the best adviser for someone who hasn't even lived in Ba Sing Se until a year ago?" Mai asked, incredulous. Just remembering the old man's cackling, nonsensical exchange with Azula when the former princess had taken charge of the "trade" for her brother made Mai's head hurt. She could almost feel sorry for the young king.

"Yeah, I thought pretty much the same thing," said Zuko, laughing again. "But it makes sense… if you turn your head and squint really hard: Bumi restored order to Omashu pretty quickly, and he knows how to keep potential enemies on their toes. He's the most powerful ruler in the south, and with Toph staying on in Ba Sing Se, Qiang has pretty solid clout with the leaders of southern provinces still in Earth Kingdom hands. "

"That doesn't mean much, not with our colonies cutting Ba Sing Se off from the southern half of the Continent," Mai pointed out, recalling the vague, far-off days of mind-numbing lectures in her history class at the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls. "Broken the spine of the Earth Kingdom," wasn't that how Madam Khun had put it? There were days she regretted having been able to cut so many classes because of Azula's ability to coerce "leaves of absence" from their instructors. It was possible she missed the day they had taught "saving the Fire Nation from the screw-ups of the ex-Fire Lord."

"That's how it looks," Zuko agreed. Strange, how happy he seemed that Mai had expressed interest in headache-inducing political dickering. "And I'm not the only one having to put up with governors and the like wanting to break off into little kingdoms. The Earth Kingdom was already fragmented when Sozin started his war, and a century of losing made everything worse. Qiang might just have to accept things as is and rule as a king with some influence over lesser kings. Who knows, maybe the sandbenders'll rise up next and declare the Kingdom of Sand in the Si Wong Desert again."

"'Again'?" Mai echoed. She sometimes forgot the breadth of Zuko's knowledge in historical minutia. Zuko blamed it on the many boring hours he had endured aboard ship during his exile, but Mai suspected it was because he actually _liked_ reading dusty old scrolls written by stuffy scholars who had died eons ago. While Mai was relieved to have distracted Zuko from brooding over his father's assassination attempts and his mother's continued absence, she was not about to let him waste their precious time with pointless trivia.

"It's a strange story; see, a thousand years ago," Zuko was saying, "the tribes of sandbenders in the… um…"

"Please continue," Mai purred whilst nuzzling the side of his neck, lightly kissing the space between his jaw and ear, "I'm not stopping you."

"The… uh…"

'_I suppose being dense is part of his charm, or I wouldn't put up with it,_' Mai reflected, smirking a bit as Zuko abandoned his dissertation in favor of pulling her up so as to better get at her lips. At some point in their kissing, he transferred her from his lap to the bench, lying nearly on top of her. Mai would have demanded a switch in position, but she never really got the chance. There was a lot to be said for the old adage about absence making the heart fonder, though Mai was certain "heart" was a euphemism for prudish sensibilities.

"Hey, I thought you were the one getting angry with me about making loud noises," Zuko breathed into her ear, smiling against her cheek.

"Well, I wouldn't… Ooo! If you'd stop putting your hand up my…!"

"Please pardon my rudeness, but…"

Had she not been busy cursing every spirit and/or supernatural being she could think of, Mai might have laughed at how Zuko literally jumped off the bench (and her) at the sound of the door opening, only to land on the floor with a decidedly un-regal _thud_! As it was, all Mai could really do was sit up and give the intruder her best promise-of-death-by-pointy-metal-objects glare while pretending that her robe and hair did not look like she had just taken a tumble out of a linen closet.

The fact that aforementioned intruder was a young woman who gaped at the couple through her glasses as though she had never seen a public display of affection made Mai wish she could summon her gauntlets just by thinking.

"Um…" the young woman began, flushing bright red and hugging a thick stack of bound papers to her chest like it was a protective charm. It was not as though Mai's scowl was even the cause of the other girl's distress, since she had fixated her eyes on some point on the ceiling as if her life depended on it. "I'm… I apologize for my rude interruption, but I heard voices… I was hoping there was someone who could direct me to the office of the High Counselor," she babbled, "since I seem to have gotten the guard's directions turned around, and I truly apologize for interrupting your… um… barging in on you… uh… I'll… findmywaythankyouverymuch,bye…!"

"Wait!" Zuko called out as the young woman backed out of the room, colliding with the doorframe in her haste, the bun perched high on her head like a fraying black onion bobbling precariously. "Uncle… the High Counselor is expecting me, I can help you out, Lady…"

"Murni, of clan Xú, special aide to the Minister of Revenue," she rattled off, still poised to flee into the hallway. Her gaze dropped from the ceiling to Zuko, her eyes widening as she got a good look at his face. "I-I mean, Your Majesty! Please pardon my rudeness!" she corrected, her voice shooting up the scale so high Mai was surprised the glass-fronted document case beside her did not shatter. At least she managed to keep hold of her papers as she bowed.

"Uh, yeah, um… it's okay, Lady Murni," Zuko tried to reassure her, tucking his crown and hairpiece into his robe since it hardly befit the dignity of the Fire Lord to try and fix his hair in front of a panicked junior member of the Treasury. "You can stop bowing now. Please."

"Since you're taking her to Iroh, I guess I'd better just show myself out?" Mai asked as she brushed past him.

"What? Mai…!"

"Lady Mai…?" Murni gasped, righting herself and staring at Mai as she stalked past.

"What of it?" Mai retorted coldly, pausing.

"Oh, i-it's a pleasure to… er, I wish it had been under more auspicious circumstances…" Instead of wilting further under her icy glare, Murni straightened and raised her chin. She had an inch or so on Mai, which was annoying. "My respects to your matriarch," she said with a noblewoman's cultured assurance. _'I have just as much right to be in the Inner Palace as you do,_' her golden brown eyes seemed to say as she peered over the black lacquer rim of her glasses.

"Thanks," murmured Mai. _'Got some spine in you after all, do you? I can still tag you to the wall in two seconds.'_

_'Try – you'll be eating fiery abacus.'_

Mai blinked, thrown off for a beat. '_"Abacus"…?'_

"Mai, you don't have to go just yet," Zuko protested, oblivious to the wordless exchange between the two young women.

"I might as well, since it'll be a hassle running back and forth between here and Iroh's office," Mai demurred, amused at the offended expression that flitted over Murni's face at her casual reference to the "High Counselor." The Xú were just such a clan of tradition-bound bureaucrats that were causing Zuko trouble with their whining, so it gave her a bit of pleasure to repay the favor.

Zuko's propensity for being dense was back in full force. "Well, if that's what you really want to do…" Zuko trailed off, looking resigned.

Mai could almost rip the stack of papers out of Murni's hands and whack him with it. _'Idiot! Just get one of the guards to escort Miss Onion Bun to your uncle's and stay here with me!' _Murni, obeying etiquette, was doing her best to effect an expressionless, deaf mask, but Mai could tell she was listening to their spat with rapt interest.

"I'll be seeing you," said Mai, turning her back on Zuko and Murni and walking away before he could spit out a coherent sentence. Thankfully, the hallway turned down another corridor just a few steps away from the office, otherwise it would have been trickier to make a dignified exit. All the same, she could not help but hear Zuko offer an apology for making Murni "uncomfortable." Mai quickened her pace to the point her walk could rightly be called a run, so as not to hear Murni's reply.

For some reason, the young Palace Guardsman on duty at the gate between the Inner and Outer Palace seemed reluctant to hand over her gauntlets and daggers, but Mai chalked it up to him being the usual paranoid bodyguard-types they were. It was not as though she were seriously contemplating charging back there to drive home a point. Or three.

_'I didn't even get around to asking him about those stupid rumors,' _she thought bitterly, flexing her wrists under the familiar, comforting weight of her gauntlets. Even in late afternoon on a humid summer day, the Outer Palace was like a marketplace, only instead of merchants and farmers peddling trinkets and produce, nobles, ministers, pages, and other assorted bureaucrats were gadding about, rushing off to meetings or just carrying on in ways calculated to make them look extremely busy or important. The usual flurry of whispers and not-quite-discreet-enough glances that greeted her appearance ought not to have bothered her, inured to it as she was by now, but today the hissing pricked at the nape of her neck and Mai moved on as quickly as she could without seeming to hurry. _'At least in marketplaces, most of the people are there to actually __**do**__ something,' _Mai thought. Thank whatever benevolent spirit responsible that people had learned to stop trying to accost her in transparent attempts to curry favor. She hated the deceit, the farce of masks the Court demanded, and she could not wait to get free of the place, now that Zuko no longer needed her.

It was a short palanquin ride back to her parents' mansion, now hers by birthright and majority. _'I've been slacking off on my dagger practice anyway.' _If the steward, old Maha, was out, maybe she could even use some of the uglier pieces of china in the butler's pantry for target practice. All she had to do was get clear of the courtyard...

"… of the Sun clan?"

So focused was she on attaining the glorious relief of the outer courtyard, Mai almost body-checked the person who had planted themselves right in the middle of her path. As they were wearing formal Fire Navy dress armor, she would have come out the loser.

"Can I help you?" she asked with toneless deference, looking past the rude idiot's shoulder at the so-close-yet-so-far crimson gate where her palanquin waited. She could feel the stares boring into the back of her head, and hear the chatter; she stamped down on the temptation to whip around and tell them off.

"By any chance, are you well acquainted with Lady Chyou of the same house?"

The mention of her aunt gave Mai pause, enough for her to take a good look at the person standing in front of her.

_'Short…' _was the first descriptive that came to mind. _'Man or woman?'_ was the second, since the Navy's dress armor was fashioned in such a way that it was difficult to tell, especially if the wearer happened to be an officer of any consequential rank._ 'Lieutenant commander, probably a staff officer,' _was Mai's confident assessment; the crimson sash over the right shoulder was a dead give-away. _'A very short, very androgynous lieutenant commander.' _

"Pardon my rudeness," the short, androgynous lieutenant commander said (Mai was beginning to hate that phrase), blithely unaware of Mai's inner monologue. The voice, though coarse as if often used for shouting orders across decks in high seas, persuaded Mai that the sailor was, in fact, a woman. The sailor bowed, a brief, economical bend of the waist that spoke of impatience with courtly niceties. "I am Lieutenant Commander Zhì, of the house of Shé."

"Aren't members of your clan more likely to go into the Army?" Mai inquired, after mimicking Zhì's bow.

"Most of them, yes," Zhì replied, the smile that had theretofore graced her sunburned face fading somewhat. "Guess I'm a bit of a rebel."

"Hm," Mai agreed noncommittally.

The smile dropped almost entirely for a moment, but Zhì regained her bearing. "I was told you were Lady Mai of the house of Sun," she continued. "I was hoping you might know Lady Chyou."

"She's my aunt." _'Can we get to the point, already?'_ There was frustration needing venting, and china needing destroying.

"Really? Great! I mean…" Zhì puffed a bit of air out of her cheek, scattering her long, dark bangs before continuing in a more calm voice, "I'm second mate on the _Hui Jian_ and we're port for… a while. I was hoping you could tell your aunt that I'd like to come by her residence and pay my respects… and condolences."

"'Condolences'?" Mai echoed, not really paying attention. Though the fact that the woman had been at sea for who knew how long might explain why she thought nothing of daring to approach the Fire Lord's girlfriend. Or maybe she knew and just did not care either way.

Zhì raised an eyebrow, no longer smiling. "Your uncle was captain of the first ship I served on, the _Da Ji_. Captain Ta was my mentor: a good leader, an honorable man. I know it's been a couple years since the North Pole Campaign, but I haven't had the chance until now to pay my respects to the captain's widow." Zhì paused, shifting her weight from one foot to the other before clasping her hands behind her back, looking off to one side. "I know she probably won't appreciate the reminder, but…"

Mai agreed with her; two and a half years had passed since the Ocean Spirit and the Avatar had ended Admiral Zhao's disastrous bid to destroy the Water Tribes once and for all, and her aunt had yet to take off her mourning colors. She could not be certain either way how her aunt would react to a reminder of her husband's death, and it was rather inconsiderate of this woman, this _stranger_, to expect Mai to clear the way for her. "I'll tell her you want to drop in," Mai allowed, hoping that would be enough to move the woman on her way.

Perhaps she should have been a little more flowery in her dismissal, for Zhì's lips thinned, her posture suddenly tense. "I thank you for your time and consideration in conveying my respects to your aunt, Lady Mai," she said in a cool voice, stepping to one side and executing a stiff, formal bow.

_'I don't think she likes me,'_ Mai assessed, nodding her head and making for the gate without a backward glance. She could not muster up the energy to care. "Home," she told the two palanquin bears as she eased into the glorified wooden box her uncle had given her as a seventeenth birthday present. Stuffy as it was, Mai slammed the screen door shut behind her, slumping back on the silken cushions as the bearers boosted the palanquin's thick pole onto their shoulders and moved off at a smooth, sedate jog toward Mai's mansion. The sound of her two "bodyguards," also "presents" from Uncle Peizhi, flanking either side of the palanquin served only to grate on her nerves. No one of any importance in the capital went about without bodyguards anymore, although the threat of violent uprising had faded months ago. They were yet another facet of the charade, a status symbol for the sake of showing off one's status.

Mai groaned and rubbed her temples, willing herself to forget everything that had happened today. _'Like Zuko even cares that the nobles are trying to marry him off to their daughters,'_ she thought. _'That's one stupid bit of tradition he's going to stop in its tracks, no matter what.' _

But, somehow, her certainty in Zuko's ability to face down his Council was not as steady as it had been that morning…

* * *

**A/N:** Erm, nothing really to say here except… "yay, the plot's arrived"? XD


	4. Book 01, Chapter 02: RUMORS

**-Danger,Deceit-  
Book 01.: Fire Nation  
Chapter .02: RUMORS**

[_What is told in the ear of a man is often heard one hundred miles away._]

- Chinese Proverb

* * *

Maha was on her the instant Mai crossed the threshold.

"Young Mistress, forgive my presumption," the elderly steward murmured, startling Mai with his sudden, silent appearance at her elbow. Maha fluttered a hand at the door attendant, who obediently secured the iron lattice before disappearing off to wherever it was servants went once they had done their job. "This evening, we must review the quarterly household and estate finances," Maha continued, his thick white eyebrows twitching up and down with every word, a nervous tic that afflicted the man as far back as Mai could remember. Today it annoyed her more than it usually did.

"Right, after dinner," she agreed, heading toward the stairs and the sanctuary of her own room. It had been nearly a year since the Office of Registry and Censors had officially declared her parents and brother dead, and two months since she had legally become an adult – and yet the man _still_ called her "Young Mistress," as if he were expecting the "rightful" owners of the mansion to come waltzing in through the front door any moment! _'To be fair, you haven't made much point of correcting him, have you?' _an inner voiced chided. _ 'He's an old man, set in his ways. He was__** Grandfather's**__ servant, for Agni's sake.' _Mai supposed she could bring it up with Maha that evening. Though now, of course, this meant she'd never get those targets she wanted…

"Young Mistress?"

Mai sighed, feeling the corner of her left eye twitch, but she composed herself before turning back to her steward. "What else is there, Maha?" she asked in the flat voice all the family servants knew indicated their mistress's displeasure about something.

Maha did not seem to notice, carrying on in the same soft, half-apologetic, half-stern way of his. "Your aunt, Lady Chyou, and her son are waiting for you in the garden. Her letter did say that she was returning today and that she expected to call on you this afternoon." That was one thing about Maha: he could lecture even when he was being deferential. Mai had a brief flash back to the time when she was five and had "accidentally" slipped ink into her horrid governess's tea. The man had never raised his voice the whole time, but her ears still burned at the memory. "As I did not know where the Young Mistress had gone or when you would return from your... appointment, I had a light late tea set for them in the gazebo, as I thought you might deem appropriate."

"Thank you, Maha," Mai said, biting back on the retort that it was not his job to know where she was going and when she was coming back home. Her _parents_ had never been so nosey! "I'll join her now. Have a room prepared in case she wants to spend the night."

"Very good, Young Mistress," Maha agreed with a bow and an approving crinkle of his thin lips.

Mai decided to ignore that. '_I need a break_,' she sighed, heading through the main sitting room and the screen doors beyond.

The walled plot behind her mansion could not hold a candle to even the smallest Palace side garden, but its privacy and intimacy was something Mai enjoyed on occasion. Careful landscaping created a stylized vision of a forest glade in miniature; the lacy fingered leaves of the five-flame maples turned color with the seasons, casting cool purple shadows now in the height of summer. Along the east wall, a small "stream" wended down to the moon-mirror pool, the current residence of a lone miniature elephant-koi. The rarest plant in the garden was the seven hundred year-old dwarf paper-juniper in its massive earthenware pot back by the south wall. The rock plum bending over it like a graceful daughter doting on her squat, decrepit father never failed to bloom with spectacular, pink-tinted flowers every spring.

The red-painted wooden gazebo in the center served as both the focal point of the garden and its singular eyesore. An overly-ornate, clumsy knock-off of the Royal Crimson Pavilion on Ember Island, her father had added it shortly before the family had been sent overseas to his governorship in newly-conquered Omashu. _'I really should have that thing torn down,' _she reminded herself, yet again.

_Tonk! _

Dragon-flies, flashing green and gold in the late afternoon sun, danced around the trickle of water filling the hollowed joint of bamboo perched on the lip of the fox-deer scarer. Just as it overflowed, the bamboo tipped over, emptying into the deep stone basin the fed the garden's "stream" and springing upright almost immediately, striking the lip with another soft _tonk! _

"Hello, Xue," Mai said to the young boy leaning against the basin. He was ignoring the bright flight of dragon-flies in favor of watching the cycle of filling and emptying with the intensity of a raven-eagle staring at a lure.

" 'llo, Mai," he replied unexpectedly, not looking away as water sluiced into the bamboo.

"Have you and your mother been waiting long?" she asked, making an effort to be polite to her cousin.

Xue shrugged, totally absorbed with the bamboo-and-stone contraption.

_'Simple minds, simple pleasures,' _Mai decided. She was just glad Xue had not taken it to mind to take the thing apart again. _'Maybe I should set him loose on the gazebo...' _ It was hard to remember if Xue had always been like this; he was too young to have been of any interest to her even before his father had been killed at the North Pole, and his mother seemed helpless to do anything about his sulky, withdrawn attitude since. _'Poor Aunty Chyou, having to put up with such a moody brat, like she doesn't have enough problems…'_

"Mai-dear!" Chyou hurried down the gazebo steps and swept Mai into an enthusiastic hug.

"Hi, Aunty," Mai said, wrapping her arms around the woman in return and feeling a tiny bit of her irritation slip out of her as she rested her cheek against the white silk of her aunt's mourning veil. Aunt Chyou was soft and smelled good, like down-stuffed pillows aired in summer sunlight, nothing at all like her fashionably thin, expensively perfumed mother had. (Mai had once announced this observation at one of her mother's garden parties, when a guest wondered aloud why the four year-old was clinging so stubbornly to her aunt. Aunt Chyou was the only one to laugh, and her visits became few and far between after that.)

"How was your trip?" Mai asked, ignoring the unwanted memory in favor of following her aunt back into the gazebo.

"A bit of hard work, a lot of fun, but it's good to be home. We completed the second ward, which means a hundred more beds, an expanded pharmacy, _and_ a new surgery," the older woman replied, slipping around the crowded tea table and taking her seat on the padded bench opposite the steps. She waved Mai to sit next to her, beaming her I've-got-something-to-show-you smile. Though not "pretty" by most standards, Mai at least could see why people called Chyou "attractive," especially the way her smiles lit up her already warm brown eyes. Small wonder she had been such a popular performer, back in the day. "They're building up the town as well, to give the families of our patients a place to stay. And wouldn't you know it, but there's this young chef, the nephew of one of our surgeons who just opened his own bakery there, and when he heard how much you love fruit tarts…"

With a flourish worthy of a stage magician, her aunt produced a square black lacquer box one might easily mistake for a document case if not for the name_ "Mingyu's White Jade Specialty Pastries, Liao Yang Island"_ painted in exquisite calligraphy on the red paper "ribbon" wrapped around it. Mai smiled even as she shook her head, being careful not to tear the ribbon as she slipped it off the box. Lifting the lid, she found five different miniature fruit tarts nestled in white silk and thick paper, still cool from whatever cold storage space her aunt had wrangled on the boat home.

"I know you like them with sugared rose petals," Chyou continued with a wistful sigh, "but they're not in season anymore, so…"

"No, no, these are fine. Thanks, Aunty," Mai said. She was hardly hungry, but it would be an insult to her aunt if she did not at least sample one of the tarts.

"I think you'll like the red-and-black lacquer berry tart best, although that white jade apple tart is what Mingyu's bakery is famous for," her aunt mentioned helpfully.

Mai divvied up the two tarts so named, half of each between the pair of them. Chyou smiled at this careful exhibition of manners, pouring fragrant jasmine tea into a clean cup for Mai. "Does Xue want any?" Mai asked, looking to the corner of the garden. Xue had wandered off somewhere while they were talking. She hoped he had gone inside where he would at least be under Maha's watchful eye.

"I'll keep these for him if he does," Chyou said, a worried frown flitting over her face as she moved her plate to one side and covered it with a napkin. She played with her empty teacup, rolling it between the palms of her hands. "I'd hoped he'd make friends with the children of the doctors and administrators, but he didn't want to have anything to do with them after the first day or so," she confessed, sounding more as if she were thinking aloud than speaking to her niece. "He'd wander off, and we'd find him, hours later, walking around wards, not talking to any of the patients, just… looking. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing him to a place full of wounded soldiers and sailors…"

Mai stabbed a bit of apple tart with her fork and slipped it into her mouth to give her an excuse not to say anything. _'Pretty good,_' she thought, concentrating on the sweet-sour-sweet tang of apple and hints of pearl apricot glaze, rather than the way her aunt was dabbing around her eyes with her fingertips.

"So…!" Suddenly, Chyou was all sunshine and smiles. Mai was never certain if her aunt's mood swings were genuine (like Ty lee's had been), or if she just used her stagecraft to smooth over awkward situations. "What's been going on up at the Palace while I was away?"

Mai wondered if she could get away with stuffing another bite of tart in her mouth to avoid answering.

"Ah, but I suppose you're too busy with your studies to hear any fun rumors and such," her aunt pouted before Mai could take action either way. She propped her chin up on her hand and teased Mai's bangs. "With the Examinations coming up in just five months, you probably can't even spare a single moment to mingle in the Outer Courtyard!"

There were times when Chyou could be as subtle as Maha when it came to lecturing. This was not one of them. Mai knew that her aunt knew she was not studying at all, and Chyou knew Mai knew that she knew it. She probably even knew _why_ Mai was neglecting her studies. All the same, she met her aunt's pointed look with nary a twitch. "Hm," Chyou replied, arching an eyebrow. "But a young woman can't spend her time cooped up in a library studying. Why don't you take one of the prepatory courses the Academy offers for alumni? You might even find a worthy study partner or two, or at least someone less diligent and more chatty."

"I'll look into it," Mai allowed, taking a sip of tea.

Chyou beamed, accepting the victory without further comment. "Well, since _you_ don't have any gossip for your aunty, Aunty had some fresh-delivered," she chirped, reaching over to the bench opposite Mai and bringing out a slim leather scroll case, whose bronze, phoenix-head endcaps Mai instantly recognized.

"Aunty Chyou," she groaned as Chyou twisted one end open and began pulling out roll after tissuey roll of fragile paper, "not the gossip sheets!"

"Your fault for not having any for me, when I brought you back such a nice souvenir," said Chyou with a nod at Mai's nearly empty plate.

Mai dead-panned. _'I swear she makes a hobby out of teasing me,' _she thought, sighing into her teacup as Chyou carefully unrolled one of the delicate bits of paper.

"You have to admire "Lady Rou-boa-zi," whoever she really is," Chyou was saying, skimming the minute pink characters printed on the sheet before tossing it over her shoulder and picking up another one. "I remember, when I was your age, the gossip collectors were so disorganized – they used to write them all by _hand_, and they all used the same color inks, so you never knew if you were getting a scroll from "Chou-Hua the Scandal Queen" or "Zhi-Shi the Finder." Very messy, and of course, easy to trace, so there was always the danger that… aha!" Chyou waved a bit of crimson-printed paper at her. "This should interest you. Another clan will be nominating one of their daughters to marry the Fire Lord. That would make… three, no, four now, in as many days, if what I heard on the boat was true!"

Mai bit down on her tongue, hard, and took a swig of tea. "Good for them," she commented after managing to swallow.

"Mai-dear, don't pretend like that," Chyou admonished, her cheerful tone not doing the least bit to mask the concern with which she looked at her niece. "These are… sensitive times, and it's never a bad idea to learn what you're up against."

"I'm not 'up against' anything, Aunty," replied Mai, working to keep her voice level. "And I don't think I'd learn anything useful from gossip collected by minor noblewomen with too much time and not enough secretary busy-work to do."

"At least get to know what's being said and what other people are planning," Chyou argued gently, reading from the sheet. "Hm, so it's the Tuan clan now… Priya, daughter of the Minister of Education and Examinations. She's older than the Fire Lord, though the difference is hardly that big; the candidate from the Shé clan is _four_ years older than he is, and she was serving in the _Navy_, of all places!"

_'…"Navy"? Why does that…?' _wondered Mai, but Chyou interrupted her with a sudden "Oho!"

"What now?" Mai asked, dismissing the bothersome train of thought.

"It says here there's a good chance that the girl isn't the Minister's legitimate daughter, that her mother had a fling with some earthbender when they were still stationed on the Continent," Chyou informed her breathlessly, touching a finger to her chin. "How bold! The girl must be quite extraordinary if Minister Loc's going to bank his clan's reputation on her!"

_'Oh, that's right, Loc's the Tuan clan leader,_' Mai thought, recalling her earlier conversation with Zuko while her aunt chattered on about the Foreign Ministry for whatever reason. _'Bet that means she's as much a hard-up traditionalist as that one Onion Bun girl, what's-her-face…' _

"… and Murni of Clan Xú! That's the name I couldn't remember."

"What?" Mai demanded. She dropped her hands into her lap, clasping them together against the irrational impulse to yank out one of her daggers.

Chyou was regarding her with undisguised sympathy now. "So, you've met her?" she asked.

"No! Yes… sort of," Mai muttered, twining her fingers tightly around each other as she remembered what she had said to Zuko before stalking off and leaving him with that… that…! _'Playing innocent, like it was such an accident she found us!'_ A small part of her whispered that she was being paranoid, that there was no way Murni could have known they would go to that particular room at that particular time. _'And if she'd been following you, I'd think you'd have noticed,'_ it added.

_'All right, so she wasn't stalking him, but I went and left him alone with her, there's no telling…!'_

_'This is Zuko we're talking about. It took you throwing a knife at his head and him falling into a fountain before he realized you liked him. Do you __**really**__ think a bean-counter's going to have the guts to pull something like that in the Inner Palace, or that Zuko's going to have any idea she's flirting with him if she does anything less?'_

_'… Heh. I'd almost let her try, just to watch.' _

"I think we've had enough of the gossip sheets for the time being," Chyou said, uneasy with the abrupt silence that followed her niece's outburst. She swept the unopened scrolls back into the case and put it aside. "There's another thing, Mai-dear," she said after several moments of circling her fingertip around rim of her teacup. "It's actually the main reason I came to see you today."

Mai looked at her aunt, not liking the way she kept playing with her teacup instead of talking to her. "Grandmother Sharanya sent me a letter while I was on Liao Yang. She'll be arriving on the mainland tonight, and taking up residence in the clan house on the East Face."

Mai went cold. "Don't tell me she's expecting a coup to break out again," she said with a smirk, trying to make light of the situation. Her great-grandmother, leader of the Sun clan, was something of a famous, even legendary, figure in Fire Nation politics, being the first female minister in the country's history, at the leading edge of Fire Lord Azulon's far-reaching reforms. Even though it had been fifteen years since she last served in any official capacity, her rare visits to the main island could be counted on to stir up all sorts of rumors. The very fact that she had _not_ come to the capital two years ago, when it seemed the country was a powder keg waiting for an opportune spark, had fueled speculation as to whether or not the matriarch was expressing her trust in or distance from the new Fire Lord with her absence. '_Why would the Ghost Washer Hag be coming out __**now**__?'_ Mai thought. She had not seen the woman in almost three years, not since her father had dragged her family to the clan estate down south to pay their respects before shipping out to Omashu. Even now, Mai could recall the cold needles that prickled her spine when she dared to look up into the ancient woman's startlingly clear but cold pale brown eyes; they looked like they belonged more to a scorpion-snake than a person.

"I don't know," Chyou replied, a note of anxiety creeping into her voice. "But she mentioned that she wanted to see you in particular, so I thought it best to come home so I could be here when she called for you."

"She's coming out of her cave to see _me_?" Mai asked, forgetting to curb her tongue in her shock. "But… she didn't even send a letter when my parents were declared dead, why does she suddenly care about me now?"

"I don't know," her aunt repeated, pulling her niece into a hug. "Whatever it is, I'll be right here for you, all right, Mai-dear?"

In her aunt's arms, Mai had a momentary, wild thought of simply ignoring the summons of the clan matriarch when they came, but a small voice pointed out, _'At the very least, running away from the clan leader just shows you're scared of her.' _Which she most certainly was not.

"Maybe she just wants to make sure you're prepared for your Examinations," Chyou volunteered suddenly. "Being an ex-Minister of Justice, I bet she's got all sorts of great study tips for you!"

There was a beat of silence before Mai snorted and Chyou laughed out loud.

* * *

**A/N:** Mai might be having a tough time of it, but really, I (almost) feel sorry for Zuko, since the prospective fiancees seem to be strong-minded, capable women.

The Chinese Imperial Examinations [_Keju_] are the basis for the "Examinations" mentioned in this chapter. It makes sense that a nation as efficient and imperialistic as the Fire Nation would have an (ideally) meritocratic system by which its government bureaucracy is selected from the best and brightest of the country. Any character mentioned as having an official ministry position in the national government took the test at the national level, which is administered every two years by royal decree.

Mai's reference to the "Ghost Washer Hag" is actually from Gaelic stories about the ghost washer-women [_bean nighe_] who clean the robes of the dead at the river that leads into Hell. They have no/very small eyes, and will drag an unwitting traveler into the river in order to have another hand to help with their chores.


	5. Book 01, Chapter 03: CONVERSATIONS

**-Danger,Deceit-  
Book 01.: Fire Nation  
Chapter .03: CONVERSATIONS **

[_Silence does not mean that nothing is being said._]

* * *

Mai could swear the left night-iris in the arrangement opposite her had wilted another degree in the last hour. _'It's been at least an hour, right?'_ she thought, resisting the urge to start pacing. It was too hot in the hallway, even with all the windows open, as there was no breeze to speak of (odd, given that this was the windward side of the island). That, and the dark clouds building in the far east, promised yet another summer thunderstorm in the near future.

Mai was not inclined to pay attention to omens, but given who she was seeing, maybe Nature was trying to warn her about something. _ 'This is going to be sooo much fun…'_ she groused, pulling at the tight collar of her formal robe.

Chyou turned the page in her small book of poetry and glanced at Mai. "You'll do fine, Mai-dear," she said calmly. "It's only tea."

"Right, Aunty," said Mai, arching her eyebrow. "'It's only tea'… and you showed up at my house at the crack of dawn to stuff me into this thing and yank my hair back into ribbons."

Chyou "ahem-ed" and paid particular attention to a verse. "All right, I'll admit, the ribbons were just because I remembered how cute you looked when you were still wearing them. I never had a daughter, so I was just taking advantage," she said, as if that excused everything. "But you look nice in that robe, and besides, it never hurts to dress up a bit to pay respects to one's elders."

"Does this mean I should dress up every time I visit you?" Mai inquired, all innocence.

"Only if you want to, Mai-dear," her aunt replied in the same tone.

Mai's lips quirked in a wry grimace. For some strange reason, Chyou's teasing helped a little. Folding her hands into her lap, Mai leaned back against the stiff chair and tried to get her thoughts in order. Rubbing her bare wrists under the cover of her wide sleeves, she wished she had not given in to Chyou's arguments so easily. Of course etiquette demanded that one did not wear weapons whilst visiting one's elders, but since Sharanya was more like a dragon than a grandmother, there had to be some sort of allowance in protocol, right?

_'What, you need weapons to feel confident about having a tea party with an old woman?'_ The small voice, like a persistent debate partner, spoke up.

She closed her eyes. _'It's more than that, and no, I don't.'_

_'Oh? And here I thought you decided it doesn't matter what the hag wants with you.'_

_'It doesn't! And it's not like I haven't already guessed. But if she thinks I'm with Zuko to help in her political games, she can go to hell!'_

_'What if she wants to keep you from marrying Zuko? It's been said she doesn't support him as Fire Lord, so maybe she's come here to interfere.' _

Mai snorted, and covered it with a ladylike cough; Chyou kept reading her book, though her eyebrow arched for a moment. _'Like she could! And it doesn't make sense for a clan leader to prevent a marriage to the Fire Lord. __**Her**__ aunt was Sozin's wife, after all.'_

_'Yes, and that turned out very well, didn't it?'_

_'… So, what, the Witch of the South is worried about history repeating itself?' _

"… Mai?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Mai blinked at her aunt. Chyou tilted her head in the direction of an elderly servant woman who had appeared out of the woodwork and now stood by the door at the far end of the hall. "You don't have to wait up, Aunty," Mai said as she stood.

"Of course I'll wait," Chyou replied with a sly smile over the top of her book. "How will I be able to satisfy my burning curiosity otherwise?"

"There's that," agreed Mai, turning down the hall.

"Good luck!" her aunt added as the servant opened the door for Mai.

_'Saying stuff like that only makes me want my daggers._' She sighed, following the servant out onto the veranda.

Blue sky and the distant sea horizon opened up before her, giving the impression that she stood at the edge of a soaring cliff at the end of the world. Even telling herself it was an illusion worked by the mansion's construction did not keep Mai's heart from leaping into her throat for a moment. To her left, in the north, the green-shrouded shoulder of the long-dormant volcano cradling the royal capital staggered down to the ancient lava plain below. A cool breeze drafted over her, the wake of a wide stretch of bamboo-framed canvas hanging from the ceiling. A servant, a young boy this time, pulled on the rope that manipulated the fan, swinging it back and forth in steady, quiet sweeps. Mai's escort did not spare him a glance, gliding over the table and two chairs standing just within the shade cast by the climbing sun and pulling the nearer one back in invitation.

The whisper-scrape of wood on wood jolted Mai's attention from the dizzying panorama, bringing it to the person occupying the opposite chair.

Sharanya did not seem to notice her great-granddaughter in the least, however, not even bothering to open her eyes as Mai took her seat at the table. A cane of polished ebony topped with gap-mouthed lion-dog's head carved from white jade leaned against chair, in easy reach of her long fingers, curled around the armrests of the cushioned chair. Her thin neck was apparently insufficient to support the weight of her head as she rested it against the high back, the sunlight probing the snow white of her hair, tied up in a scanty bun with a scarlet ribbon, picking out the odd grey strand. Her skin was nearly as pale as her hair, such that Mai could see blue veins running beneath the wrinkles of her forehead. Her deep crimson robe, cut in a style even more old-fashioned than the one Chyou had forced on Mai, looked almost too big for Sharanya's diminutive frame, the pointed ends of the layered shoulder cloths drooping almost to her elbows. Mai was at odds to find the imposing matriarch that had intimidated her two years ago in the person of this dozing, frail old woman.

The fragment of a half-forgotten nursery rhyme sprang to mind: _'Kitty-cat, kitty-cat, sleeping in a sunbeam, old and grey and bone-lean.' _

Sharanya's eyes snapped open at the sound of Mai's suppressed snicker. Instead of the expected glare, dull brown eyes searched Mai's face with a puzzled air, as if she did not even recognize the granddaughter she had summoned in the first place.

"Good day, Great-grandmother Sharanya," Mai said, bowing over the table with her hands folded together in front of her. _'Don't tell me the woman's finally gone senile,'_ she thought, irritated, relieved, and suspicious all at once as she sat up and waited for Sharanya's bidding.

Sharanya coughed, dry and raspy, her still-unfocused gaze sliding away from Mai without a word, drifting out to somewhere in the sky over her shoulder.

Someone stepped onto the veranda behind Mai. She turned her head to see the old woman, this time flanked by four young female servants, all bearing pieces of what Mai immediately identified as a formal tea ceremony set.

'_Oh, so it's going to be one of__** those **__kinds of tests, is it?'_ she thought, looking back at Sharanya as the servants swiftly and silently laid out the accouterments, the rosewood "water-catcher box" first, the emptying bowl placed on top of the left half, the lidded brewing cup on its saucer directly in front of her and the pair of rounded teacups nearer Sharanya. The bowl and cups were all fine bone china, nearly translucent, painted with delicate sprays of wisteria for the summer season. Simple to the point of plain, yet another affectation of an older generation, to present a face of humility and detachment from the material world, though Mai guessed there was not a piece of china in her house that would fetch the same price of a single teacup. The heavy stoneware pot, full of boiled water, was placed on its own table to Mai's right, the bamboo "cup" containing the ladle, tongs, and tea scoop (all lacquered bamboo themselves) on the table near the top left corner of the box.

Lastly, the old woman, obviously the senior household servant, placed the china tea salver, mounded with crinkled purple-green tea leaves, on the left corner of the table and presented Mai with a folded square of rough lavender silk. Already composing herself for the trial ahead, Mai nodded and took the cloth.

A deep breath… and memory overtook her.

'_"Mai? Mai, stop fidgeting and watch your mother. If you're going to marry the Fire Lord, you need to know how to do this properly. Now, place the napkin in your lap, over your right knee. Bow."' _

The tightness of her collar, the sweeping view of sky, mountain, and sea, even Sharanya, faded into the background. The memory of oft-repeated ritual guided her hands, whispering to her with her mother's voice.

_'"Lift up your napkin like so and fold it… keep your thumb straight! Only ignorant Earth Kingdom peasants stick their thumb up at sun. Lift the lid of the pot, as though you're lifting a lotus flower from a pond and lean it against the side of the pot. Yes, good."' _

Mai plucked the ladle from the cup, drawing it over the napkin in her upraised palm, wiping away the imagery dust clinging to its bowl. Changing hands, she placed the napkin in her lap and scooped a ladleful of steaming water from the pot.

_'"When you open the lid of the brewing cup, your pinky must be extended... farther, farther, no, your finger won't fall off. Yes, I know it hurts, but you have to get used to it if you don't want people laughing at us. You don't want that, do you?"' _

She poured the water slowly, in three deliberate circular motions, holding the lid at a right angle to the lip, her pinky stretched to the point of pain from lack of practice. Placing the ladle's handle astride the mouth of the pot, Mai dipped the lid into the cup, turning it between her thumb and fingers, purifying the already spotless china. Her pinky began to tremble, but she did not change the pace of the rite, replacing the lid on the cup before slowly emptying the water into the teacups, her forefinger holding the fragile lid place. Excess water spilled through the slats of the box like muffled raindrops. _'"If there's too much water in the brewing cup, let it spill over, like too much happiness. And when you place the cup back on the saucer, you must frame it with your other hand, to cushion the sound. And keep your pinky extended!'" _

A moment's respite. Mai splayed her fingers over her lap, resisting the urge to massage her strained pinky. _'I haven't had to do this in years,' _she thought, a sharp stab going through her chest. Almost as many years since she had so clearly heard her mother's voice, even in dreams. _'I'm not going to think about that.' _Reaching for the tongs, Mai spared a glance at Sharanya, trying to gauge the old woman's thoughts: was she doing well or not? Wait, was Sharanya even paying attention? Her great-grandmother's eyes were closed, her square jaw resting on her high collar. Mai almost dropped the tongs, but covered the near-mistake with the swipe of the napkin, forcing her outrage back down before using the tongs to pick up the first teacup.

_'"How many times are you going to drop the teacup like that? You're going to break them one of these days if you don't pay attention!"' _ Mother never said anything about other people falling asleep! More water sloshed through the slats as Mai upended the teacup into the other, keeping it at a right angle as she turned it round and round, the subdued _scrape-scrape_ of china on china setting her teeth on edge. After patting the outside dry with the cloth, she repeated the process with the other teacup, emptying what was left into the bowl.

_'"Even though that's the hard part, Mai, don't think you can be lazy! If you brew the tea incorrectly, you spoil everything about the ceremony."' _Mai picked up the tea salver, presenting the tea to the dozing biddy across from her. Holding the salver in her palm, Mai removed the lid from the brewing cup, balancing it tenuously between the base of the cup and the saucer. _'"It's ten years bad luck for you and your guest if the lid falls into the box, Mai, so you must never let it happen."_

_'If I could be sure she'd actually survive all ten of them, it might be worth the curse,' _Mai thought as she brushed a measure of tea into the cup and set the salver aside, reaching for another ladleful of water. She replaced the lid without incident, lifting the brewing cup and pouring the wakening flush of pale yellow tea into the cups.

_'"It's not wasting tea, Mai – the leaves are bitter when they first open, so you are doing your guest the greatest favor by ensuring they only drink the sweetest tea.'" _

Using the tongs to empty the cups one by one into the bowl, Mai rolled her eyes at the memory. _'Like she even cares. Senile old bat.' _She poured one last ladle of water into the brewing cup, breathing in the mingled fragrances of apples, moon peaches and soft rain. _'High Mountain Oolong. Aren't we fancy?' _Pouring the golden amber tea into the cups, Mai placed the brewing cup back on the saucer and bowed, concluding the ritual.

Sharanya had not been asleep, apparently, for she reached for her cup as soon as Mai straightened, not even waiting for her granddaughter to present it to her or wish her "good health."

_'Saves me a bit of trouble, then.' _Mai shrugged it off, picking up her own teacup and sipping the product of her trial. The tea was as smooth as oil, tasting slightly of honey and wood smoke. At this point in most tea ceremonies, the participants were expected to converse, but since Sharanya seemed satisfied just to sit, drink tea, and stare at nothing, Mai felt no obligation to drag out the niceties any further.

All the same, Mai was surprised when Sharanya placed her teacup on the table, stood without a word, and picked up her cane. Years of etiquette indoctrination took over and Mai hurried to her feet, bowing, but Sharanya had already turned away, exiting the veranda through the same door Mai had entered, the _tump-tump-tump_ of the cane on the wooden floors fading into nothing.

Mai stared after her. _ 'For a crippled old woman who needs a cane, she moves pretty fast…'_ What, exactly, she was expected to do? Chase after her?

Just then, Chyou came bustling out onto the veranda, her white veil fluttering in the artificial breeze of the overhead fan. "Grandmother Sharanya passed me in the hall, but she didn't say anything," she said, clasping Mai's hands between hers and surveying the table. "A tea ceremony? Goodness, when she said 'tea,' I didn't think..." Catching herself, Chyou smiled at Mai, encouraging her to do the same. "But I'm sure you did well: if there's anything Yuming bragged about, it was how ladylike she brought you up. And those awards from the Academy..."

Mai shrugged, still thrown off by Sharanya's behavior.

"So…" Chyou turned to the door, urging Mai along with a gentle pull of her hands. Once her niece fell in step, Chyou released her. "What did you and Grandmother Sharanya talk about?"

"Nothing," Mai replied, anger bubbling up in her once again. _'Who the hell does she think she is, jerking me around like that?' _ She glared at the polished wooden floor of the hallway as she followed Chyou toward the mansion's forecourt, where their carriage waited. Bad enough to put her some stupid ritual Mai had thought years behind her, but to not even say "Thank you" or "Good job" or…!

Chyou slowed, tilting her head up at her niece, dismay clear in her eyes. Before Mai could ask her what the problem was, her aunt looked away, mentioning off-hand, "We'd better hurry home, Mai-dear. Your uncle's been called to the capital for a couple days, and he wants you to have dinner with us. You will, won't you?"

_'That's right, he's reporting to Zuko about that last attempted poisoning. Poor Uncle Peizhi.' _"Of course. Maha's been after me about the household accounts, so it'll be nice to eat out for once."

"Mai-dear…" Chyou sighed, but instead of chiding Mai on shirking her responsibilities as mistress of a household, she swept up into the carriage.

Mai settled in beside her, staring out the narrow gaps in the slatted sides at the passing scenery, vowing to throw out the old tea set that had been crowding up the display in her dining room.

* * *

Other than a brief awkward moment when Peizhi asked why Xue had not joined them for dinner, the meal was delicious enough to dispel most of Mai's bad mood as result of her "meeting" with Sharanya. Chyou was not only a talented hostess who provided a good table (with the help of an excellent chef, naturally), but she had plenty of stories from her younger days as a nationally-renowned musician to recount that were always light, humorous, and told with just the right amount of dramatic effect. And once she had gotten a cup of wine in her, they even became interesting.

"… and then the curtain went up, and you would never guess what the audience saw," she said with a meaningful arch of her eyebrows.

Mai had a very good idea of what the "great reveal" might be, but it was fun to play along. "What was it?"

Chyou pursed her lips, pretending to pout. "Mai-dear, you're supposed to guess."

"But you just said I never would."

"That's not the point! You know I don't like it when you act cute. Peizhi, do you care to take a guess?"

"Hm? I'm sorry, Chyou, my attention wandered a bit," Peizhi said with grimace of embarrassment glancing over his craggy face. "What story was this?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't try that; I think I told you this story already, you just want to be sure so you can spoil the surprise for Mai!"

"I would never spoil a lady's story, that would be unconscionable," Peizhi riposted, pulling a very unconvincing "affronted gentleman" face that lasted until Mai snickered into her wine-cup.

Chyou made a noise like disgruntled mudhen, which only caused her two dining companions to laugh harder. "Well, I see that my audience has tired of my story," she sniffed. It was only after a fair amount of cajoling and more laughter, and Mai's eventual guess of "a rabbarroo playing the goong harp" that Chyou relented. "So, the curtain goes up, and not only has the stage crew forgotten to lower the night backdrop, but Master Zihan and young lady he got into the production by claiming she was his "protégé" were up-stage center, performing the crowing romantic scene from the play's finale with far more… conviction than any pair of actors in the history of Fire Nation theatre. They brought the house down.

"Of course, the play was banned by the Department of Morality and Social Welfare the next morning, and I was forbidden from sponsoring any stage productions for a year, but it was an astounding production and still talked about today. I believe the young lady went on to join the Ember Island Players, a much better place for all concerned in my opinion."

"A good thing nobles can't be actors," Peizhi said. "Can you imagine the shame something like that would bring to a family?"

"It was certainly embarrassing for those two at the time, but actors have become nobles, in the past," Chyou reminded him. "They might again, with this new Fire Lord."

"Hmmm…" Peizhi frowned into his wine-cup.

"I never really understood the difference between playing an instrument or dancing on stage, and acting in a play," Mai commented, to give Chyou a chance to smooth over her slip of the tongue.

Her aunt took the lead with gratitude. "According to the Codes of Propriety, it's assumed that actors 'glorify immoral behaviors' through their interactions on stage and off," she said with a glance at the ceiling which, from a less proper lady, might have been called a roll of the eyes, "whereas dancers of the Five Classical Styles and musicians 'glorify the virtues and aesthetics of Fire Nation tradition.' Of course, things were much more open to interpretation before Fire Lord Sozin built the Institute of Aesthetic and Cultural Studies and drew the lines of morality."

"And as a distinguished graduate of the Institute and member of the Department of Cultural Edification, you no doubt approve of such a measure?" Peizhi asked wryly.

"As an official of the Ministry of Ceremonies, I must agree with the precepts of my office, no matter where I happened to be educated," was Chyou's demure reply. "That's not to say I don't approve of what the Institute does. I just think that a more open environment for study and experimentation is a better tribute to our cultural heritage."

"Remind me again why you never wanted to serve in the Ministry of Justice," her brother-in-law kidded. "You'd have made a magistrate in no time."

Chyou dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "Oh, memorizing all those law codes! Sounds _terribly_ boring."

Before Mai could get in a smart remark, her aunt waved her hand, summoning the servants to begin clearing the remains of their dinner. "Who wants to sing tonight?" Chyou asked as they walked out onto the covered landing overlooking the capital city. From this vantage point, perched up in the teeth of the caldera rim, they could look out over the whole of the capital, aglow with lanterns as the moon rose behind them. The long-promised storm from the morning growled and spit arcs of lightning as it rained on the Shunfeng Plateu to the east of the capital, the dark thunderhead towering over the tallest spires of the rim opposite as a splotch of ink-black against the starlit night sky.

Mai had forgotten about Chyou's love of "audience participation" in her music. _'She and Zuko's uncle really need to meet up,'_ she thought as servants brought out chairs and a pair of spindly trestles. Chyou's personal maid materialized, bearing her mistress's guzheng zither, swaddled in thick silk. It seemed unwise to trust such a young, delicate girl with such a bulky, ancient instrument, but the servant apparently knew what she was doing and set the zither up without incident.

"Tell Xue to come and join us," Peizhi bid the girl as she bowed, taking her leave of the family.

The silk strings of the zither plunked discordantly. "Ah, I dropped the plectra!" Chyou exclaimed, bending over in her chair to pick up the scattered ivory finger picks. Mai picked up one that had landed near her toe, while Peizhi bent under the zither to help his sister-in-law. "It's alright if Xue stays in his room," Chyou said after apologizing for her clumsiness (Mai wondered about that). "He needs to prepare for the start of the next term; it's only a week away."

"Are you certain he's studying?" Peizhi asked, dubious. "He seems to have made a point of avoiding me since I came home."

"I'm sure you're just imagining things; what nephew isn't happy to see his uncle, after so long?"

"Aunty, do you mind singing the first song?" Mai asked in a bid to dispel the suddenly tense atmosphere. "I don't think I'm up to singing tonight."

"What? Oh, certainly." Chyou slipped the last plectrum over her left thumb and plucked at the strings, making minute adjustments to the bridges. Mai settled back in her chair, watching her uncle out of the corner of her eye. Peizhi seemed a touch put-out by the way the conversation had ended so abruptly, but as Chyou finished tuning and began plucking the scales of the first song of the evening, his posture relaxed. The low rumble of thunder and the breath of rain brought by a chance breeze seemed to inspire Chyou, as she began to sing:

_'North of the Black Cliffs, battered by the waves  
and east of the Grander Pavilion,  
the heavy march of clouds flattens the sea._

_The feet of the unlucky traveler  
sink deep into the mud, and he stumbles,  
and hurries on, eager to find his home._

_The birds in my garden became silent,  
and sought the shelter of their mud-built nests.  
Even the turtle-duck hides under its wing._

_The flowers of the field, untouched by men,  
sleep beneath the grass, drinking the torrent.  
Shall we gather the fire-lilies at dawn?_

_I listen to the chatter of the rain  
dancing on the face of the Eastern Lake…_

_"… and think of the willows, bowing their heads," _Chyou and Peizhi sang together, the notes of the zither fading as the song ended. "Lucky for us, it seems the storm has decided to move on," she observed, smoothing her hands over the still-trembling strings. Peizhi chuckled, and signaled to a servant to bring the plum wine.

Mai, who had been watching the play of fire-and-shadow as it moved further north, away from the capital, breathed an internal sigh of relief. _'Two storms averted, so long as Aunty sticks to singing, and Uncle to listening.' _Peizhi must have had a worse time of it with Zuko than she had with Sharanya; while not saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment was second nature to her, Mai was surprised at how often Chyou had tripped up that evening.

Her uncle poured the clear, syrupy liquor into three tiny eggshell cups, and Mai took a well-earned sip.

Chyou declined the proffered cup. "After this song," she said, once again plucking at the strings. The tempo was slower than the last song, the notes lingering and almost seeming to sigh:

_'The blossoms of plums are falling,  
A hundred and hundred yet remain,  
Whither have you gone, love, calling,  
here I wait, littered with petals._

_The blossoms of plums are falling,  
A dozen and dozen yet remain,  
The letter you sent me, scrawling,  
only hasty words I read there._

_The blossoms of plums are falling,  
One, but one single bloom remains,  
Far you have gone from me, calling,  
chasing dreams I cannot follow...'_

"That was Father's favorite song."

"Oh, good evening, Xue!" There was momentary strain to Chyou's smile as her son leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed at Peizhi. "Thank you for joining us."

"Why weren't you at dinner, young man?" Peizhi asked, getting up from his chair.

Xue snorted. "Why do you care? You're not my father."

_'Didn't know I was getting a free "Family Drama Floor Show" with my dinner tonight,' _Mai thought, sitting very still in her chair and affecting a disinterested mask as Peizhi advanced on Xue.

Like the hidden train of a silk sleeve revealed in the wave of a dancer's arm, Chyou seemed to materialize by magic between her brother-in-law and her son. "Xue, don't use that tone with your uncle," she said mildly. "Now, apologize."

"Sorry," Xue muttered with a roll of his eyes.

As her uncle's back was to her, Mai had to imagine the expression on his face. It was not that hard, given that even Xue flushed a bit and dropped his gaze to the floor (not for nothing was their uncle the former warden of the Boiling Rock, or the current overseer of the Iron Tower, for that matter). "Apology accepted. But perhaps you should go back to your room and study your _'Virtues of Obedience'_ a little harder," Peizhi said after a beat, his voice carefully controlled, though Mai noted his right hand had tightened into a trembling fist.

Xue seemed to think the better of whatever retort was on his lips. He bowed to his mother, bidding her "Good night" before turning on his heel and stalking back into the house.

"I'll speak to him," Chyou said breathlessly, her cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for his discourtesy."

Peizhi's hand brushed over her cheek, stopping her before she could bow. "You don't have to apologize for him, Chyou." He turned to Mai, acknowledging her with a nod. Mai would have preferred they all forget she had been there at all. "I have an appointment with the Minister of Justice early tomorrow morning, so I'm afraid I'll have to withdraw for the evening. Feel free to spend the night, Mai, if you prefer."

_'And sit through breakfast with Xue? I don't care if the Palace caters.' _"Thank you, Uncle Peizhi. Good night." Mai rose and bowed.

"Mai..." Chyou began once Peizhi's footsteps faded into the house. The timely arrival of her aunt's maid saved Mai from having to endure an awkward explanation for what had just happened (not that she needed one).

"Mistress, pardon my intrusion, but I was asked to deliver these letters to both you and Lady Mai," the girl said, bowing and drawing two very different pieces of folded paper from her sleeve.

The thick red paper folded in thirds, bound by an old-fashioned gold cord sealed with a wad of black wax impressed with the gold-dusted "gathered bamboo" Sun crest went to Mai, while the white paper, folded over with a smaller sheet of black and sealed with a red chop stamp, was handed over to Chyou. _'What now?' _Mai thought, holding her letter between her thumbs and forefingers. She wondered if Chyou would say anything if the missive just happened to fall off the balcony...

"Oh?"

Mai stuffed Sharanya's letter into her sleeve. "Who's it from?"

"From a Lieutenant Commander Zhì, of the Shé clan. She would like to call on me the day after tomorrow, to pay her respects for... ah, she was one of Ta's protégés, I thought the name looked familiar."

_'Oh, right. Her.'_ Mai felt a moment of embarrassment at not having passed along the obnoxious woman's request. The look on her aunt's face, shaded with sorrow and pain, vindicated her somewhat, until her conscience prodded her, hinting that maybe a little bit of warning for Chyou might not have been amiss. _'Or maybe, having not gotten a reply, she should have taken the hint that she wasn't wanted here,' _Mai argued back.

"Would you like to meet her, Mai?"

"What? Why?"

Chyou folded the letter over, looking thoughtfully at the characters incised on the seal. "The lieutenant commander is the Shé candidate for the Fire Lord's wife, according to my sources. Wouldn't it be a good idea to meet her?"

"I don't see the point," Mai replied, deliberately blasé.

"Mai-dear..." Chyou sighed, slipping the letter into her robe. "If anything, this can be an opportunity to expand your social circle. While anyone would envy being able to walk into the Inner Palace at anytime, I worry that you don't seem to have made other friends in the Court since..."

"I've had enough of people who want to use me." It came out more harshly than she wanted. See the shock on Chyou's face, Mai almost apologized. But it would be cheap to wave away honesty with an insincere excuse.

Chyou's hands, fingertips roughened by years of plucking zither strings, closed around Mai's, her smile gentle. "I'm sorry, Mai-dear, I'm nagging. I'm sure there will be other opportunities for you to meet her; who knows, you might become friends."

Mai doubted that very much.

"What does Grandmother Sharanya say?"

While she appreciated the change in conversation, the new topic was one Mai had rather hoped to avoid. With distaste, Mai took out the letter and, using one of her knives to cut under the wax seal, opened it and read. "... Our esteemed matriarch found my company so entertaining that she wants to see me two days from now." It took a fair amount of willpower for her not to crumple the summons into a ball and hurl it from the balcony. Instead, mindful of Chyou's silent observation, she folded it with the proper respect accorded to the clan seal and slipped it into her sash. "I'm getting some use out of all those tea ceremony lessons, aren't I?"

Chyou was not fooled in the least. "Mmm... would you like me to come with you again?"

"And make you sit around when you have a caller the same day? No, but thank you, Aunty. It's been a while since I've taken out my carriage anyway; what's the point of keeping one if you're not going to use it?"

Her aunt conceded to Mai's scrupulous attention to social obligation. "Well, try to talk about the weather, or your studies this time, Mai-dear, and I'm sure it will be more fun."

"Yes, Aunty."

* * *

**A/N:** For the record, I've had training in Japanese tea ceremony (_chadou_), but not any of style of Chinese ceremony - my information for the tea ceremony Mai performed comes from research and one interesting (to me, anyway ^-^;) video I discovered on YouTube.

Further note (with apologies to my great-aunt): I would have preferred studying the Chinese style - sitting on your legs for hours HURTS.


	6. Book 01, Chapter 04: FACES

**-Danger,Deceit-  
Book 01.: Fire Nation  
Chapter .04: FACES **

[_The still face of the water conceals the current beneath._]

* * *

"Home," Mai snapped as she swept up into her chaise without giving her servant the opportunity to assist her. The young man took one look at his mistress's face, thought the better of saying anything beyond a hurried "Yes, milady," and leapt up into the driver's seat. With a click of his tongue, the ostrich-horse set off at a trot through the forecourt's opening gates and down the steep slope to the road leading back to the capital. Behind them, Mai's bodyguards raced to mount their mongoose-lizards, cursing under their breaths as the maids of the manor looked on and giggled.

It had been a while since someone or something had so thoroughly pissed her off. Probably since Zuko had left that letter on her bed before running off to join the Avatar, without a thought of asking her to come along. _'Yes, dredging up the past and getting angrier - that's the way to deal with this!' _Mai sat up, straight as a cypress in a temple grove, her eyes fixated on the dancing row of red silk tassels sewn around the hood of her chaise and took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down.

But then, a letter from Zuko _had_ set the stage last night, the final injury slapped on top a day of headache-inducing bookkeeping under Maha's supervision (why were estate finances so complicated anyway?). _'At least he had it delivered properly, instead of just tossing it on my bed this time.' _After apologizing for his "insensitivity" at their last meeting (Mai forced her jaw to unclench), Zuko went on to inform her that he was finalizing negotiations with the "representative" of the colonial governors, who had finally consented to individual audiences with their Fire Lord in the capital, hopefully within the month.

_'Who do those governors think they are, 'agreeing' to an audience with the Fire Lord?' _When prior Fire Lords had summoned their governors, they came like obedient lion-dogs, heeling at their master's call. Now, they pleaded all sorts of "difficult circumstances," rogue war bands, dissidents rabble-rousing, revolts, natural disasters, attacks on officials, assassinations of family members, any excuse really, to avoid leaving their territories when Zuko requested their presence. She had to hope that Zuko was concealing his own anger at their impudence in his letter (no way to know if it might have been intercepted at one point or other), and that he knew he still faced an uphill battle against nobles who scorned both his claim to the throne and his ability to compel their obedience.

Whatever his true feelings, the upshot was that Zuko was inescapably tied up in Court matters for the next few days, and so he wished Mai well on her visit with her honored matriarch.

It felt good to destroy that china. Mai felt justifiably smug that she could still nail targets so well with only the flickering light of a single oil lamp to help her.

But there were no convenient pantries with spare saucers out here. Gritting her teeth, Mai turned her attention to the events of the preceding few hours, analyzing it as she would a masterwork of calligraphy to determine the purpose of its composition...

Felled trees and other debris left in the wake of last night's storm littering the road out of the capital had forced her chaise to a crawling pace along with the rest of the traffic, and the hour of the appointment had come and gone by the time she made her appearance on the veranda where Sharanya waited, as before. Without even giving her a chance to spit out her courtesies to the old hag, a cluster of servants descended, wordlessly laying out the instruments by which she was to "entertain" the matriarch. Mai could only stand there, spectator to a pantomime designed to chastise her for her tardiness. The humiliation quickly gave way to anger. Who the hell did Sharanya think she was, insulting her like this?

Without a word, Mai took her seat across from her great-grandmother. A quick glance at the table informed Mai of a variation on the theme of these "social calls": rather than the conventional style, Sharanya had laid out trappings for an obscure, ancient mode of tea ceremony. Instead of fine china cups and saucers balanced on a delicate rosewood box, two deceptively plain and inelegant antique bowls of partially glazed black clay squatted on the table in front of Mai. _'Raku bowls, from the kiln of the master himself.'_ She did not even have to turn them over to look for artist's mark; the secret of Raku's "opal-fire" glaze had been lost over 200 years ago upon the untimely death of the "nobleman artisan." _'The Palace has… eight of these, maybe?'_

There was no teapot or salver loaded with expensive tea leaves; in their place was a spindly split bamboo whisk and round lacquered wood box containing the fine powder of green tea leaves. Everything had been selected with care by an eye well-versed in the ritual, one Mai's mother had always dismissed as being "out of fashion."

Mai smirked inwardly. If it was Sharanya's design to embarrass her with such an esoteric test, she had sorely miscalculated.

It was hardly Mai's fault that the Academy's master of tea ceremony happened to be _the_ master of the ancient ceremony, or that Mai, forced into the class by her mother, just happened to possess a prodigy's aptitude when it came to her teacher's style of choice. And neither was it Mai's fault that, within four years, the master declared Mai the "rising star of classical tea ceremony." Mai's mother had to grin and bear the "compliments" from other ladies about her daughter's marvelous talent for learning something she "never could have learned at home."

(Azula had remarked at the time that she was impressed at the lengths Mai would go to spite her mother.)

Glancing at Sharanya, Mai picked up the white linen napkin in the same way a warrior takes up their opponent's letter of challenge. The matriarch seemed as distant and dozing as she had the first time, but Mai was no longer fooled – she was being watched from under those pouchy lids. Confident of victory, she bowed and began.

This time, there were no whispers of memory, no Mother prompting her along as she carried out the ceremony with perfection that would have made her former master beam with pride. It was faultless, from the way she cleansed each instrument in turn, measured the tea powder to the precise quarter-turns of the bowl, the swipe of the napkin, and the soft swish as she whisked the steaming water into the tea and the perfect height of foam she achieved as she presented the bowl to her great-grandmother.

In silence, the matriarch accepted the bowl, bowing to acknowledge her great-granddaughter's offering and the perfection of the ritual. Turning it slowly in mirror-perfect imitation of Mai's earlier demonstration, she meditated on the flecks of crimson and gold the sunlight illuminated in the ink-black glaze before raising the priceless pottery and sipping the bitter, chalky tea.

Mai's breath trapped involuntarily in her throat, recognizing a true master's grace and deliberation in an instant, so far removed the casual affect of someone who partook in the ceremony out of curiosity or diversion and certainly _not_ the actions of a woman rotted by Time.

Sharanya set the bowl down without a sound, turning it back to Mai. Shaken, Mai instinctively reached for it, napkin at the ready to begin the cleansing. Before she could, the matriarch left her chair and the veranda, the _tump-tump-tump_ of her cane loud in the unnatural silence.

This time, Mai did not hesitate. Throwing down the napkin (but placing the bowl carefully on the table), she shot to her feet, fully intent on pursuing the old hag and getting to the bottom of her game. Intent quickly foiled, however.

"The Mistress would have you receive this, Lady Mai." The old woman, Sharanya's senior household servant, ought not to have been such an effective obstacle, but she was taller and broader of shoulder than first impression gave and the doorway was rather narrow when one got right down to it. Ignoring her, Mai stared down the passageway. Empty. Her great-grandmother had vanished.

The servant coughed delicately, bringing Mai's attention back to her or, rather, the thing in her hands: a folded red paper bound by thin gold cord and sealed with the clan crest. Not caring that the woman would doubtless report the impropriety to the matriarch, Mai ripped the seal off and dropped it to the floor, scanning the characters she knew she would find. _'Tomorrow?'_ Cramming the taunt into her sash, she turned calmly to the servant. "Please inform my honored great-grandmother that I will arrive at her bidding at the appointed time."

"Yes, Lady Mai."

The desire to deny Sharanya the satisfaction of breaking her composure (any more than she already had, anyway) carried Mai at a sedate, ladylike pace all the way out the front door, but no further…

Mai sat back, suddenly tired. The ordeal had passed, and there was nothing she could do about it, other than take away anything she might have learned to prepare for the next time. And there _would_ be a next time: no way was she letting Sharanya get away with making a fool out of her!

The matriarch was just playing at being senile, that much was obvious. Mai tapped her thumbnail against her front teeth, a habit Mother had always scolded her over. Their first meeting had planted the seed of suspicion, and this latest confirmed it. The old woman, for whatever twisted reason, was playing with Mai like she was a piece in a game to occupy the empty hours of her days. She had learned long ago to trust her instincts concerning people with a certain power over her, but Mai had to admit she could not puzzle out Sharanya's motivations. And there _had_ to be motivations beyond simple torment for the sake of it; even Azula had always had a sort of frightening logic and purpose behind her smallest cruelties. _'Most of the time.'_

The question then, she supposed, was whether or not Azula was at all a useful frame of reference for someone as inscrutable and _ancient_ as Sharanya.

The crews were still out clearing the road, but the traffic had died down to no more than the usual nuisance and they made good time back to the capital. Once clear of the tunnel leading to the interior of the caldera and looking over the royal city spread out below, a sudden whim seized Mai.

"Driver, take me to my Au… my Uncle Peizhi's house."

"Yes, mistress."

As the chaise changed course, Mai said to her bodyguards, "Return home and tell Maha that I'll be staying with my aunt tonight. Both of you."

"But, mistress…" one of them began to argue.

Mai silenced him with a glare and the chaise moved on, leaving the pair in its wake.

* * *

Chyou's (or rather, Peizhi's) steward, Thao, was cut from a different sort of cloth than Maha. For one, he was not half as ancient and two, Mai had never heard him utter more than one sentence at a time, even to her uncle. Perhaps it suited a prison warden's taste to have such a stoic, severe-looking man in his service. Thao was rather physically imposing and not the sort one wanted to find waiting on the other side of the front door when dropping in, uninvited and unexpected.

"Tell my aunt that I'm here to see her," Mai said to him as she breezed into the foyer, turning into the front reception room and taking a seat on the cushy chair just inside the doorway.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thao bow, like a tree trunk slowly bending in half and straightening itself before he turned and glided off into the house. Letting out a deep breath, Mai slouched back in the chair, letting the thick silk cushion absorb the aches the bouncing of the chaise over the rough road had worked into her backside. She needed a plan, a way to deal with Sharanya; talking with Chyou seemed as good a place as any to start, since she knew more about the matriarch and had yet to offer Mai any bad advice about anything. _ 'You're going to have to tell her you ignored her advice to talk about the weather, you know.'_

"Hmph…"

"Here to see my mother?"

Mai started, then realized it was Xue, skulking in the chair in the far corner, a large book spread across his skinny legs. She had not noticed him when she came in, but then, Xue had an odious talent for appearing in unlikely places.

"Yes, I am," she replied, considering moving to the rear garden so as to not have to endure the little brat's presence.

To her surprise, Xue kept talking. "You're going to have to wait a bit. Mother's other visitor's still here."

_'"Other…"?'_ Mai closed her eyes and swore long and loud in her head. She had forgotten about Zhì and her unwelcome "duty." All the same… _'Shouldn't she have left by now?'_ It had to be at least three hours past midday; what sort of inconsiderate boor inflicted their presence on a poor widow for that long?

"I like her."

Mai opened one eye at her cousin, who actually smiled, not in any sort of vicious or sarcastic way, but out of apparent sincere cheerfulness. It was a bizarre expression to see on that normally sullen face.

As though she had prompted him, Xue continued, "She saw me on the way up to Mother's room and knew who I was. She said, 'You look just like your father, my captain,' and asked me if I wanted to join the Navy like he did. I told her I did, and she said that she'd be honored to have me be part of her crew when she gets her ship!"

The boy was practically bouncing in his seat, cheeks flushing with excitement. Mai inched farther away from him in her chair and craned her neck, hoping to catch sight of Thao returning to take her up to her aunt.

Not getting the hint, Xue kept up the chatter. "She also said that she'd take me on a tour of the _Hui Jian_! That's the Second Fleet's flagship – she's the second mate, so she said she can even take me onto the bridge and down into the engine room." He brandished the book, which Mai saw was a history of famous naval battles. "Did you know? The first _Hui Jian_ was commissioned in Sozin 73, and was the Fire Nation's second ironclad flagship, and that's why the Second Fleet's flagship is always called _Hui Jian_. But the first one wasn't even as big as one of our modern destroyers, see?"

"Yes, interesting," Mai commented, glancing at the illustration Xue was waving at her.

He beamed, and flipped further into the book. "Zhì's ship is actually the fourth ship to be named _Hui Jian_, but it was the second _Hui Jian_ that's the most famous; it helped win the Battle of Hakodei Gulf, against the Earth Kingdom's largest fleet, which also had ironclads back then, but they weren't as good as ours. Have you ever seen the old ironclad, the _Yun Tie_, they keep on display at the Institute? Even civilians can go see it, you just have to have a Navy officer escorting you. Father used to…"

"Maybe your new friend can take you to see it again," Mai suggested, egged on by a strange sense of guilt at the way Xue's face crumpled at the mention of his father. Uncle Ta had never been around much (a fact of life for anyone in the Navy), so it mystified her as to why Xue should be so attached to his memory; she could count on one hand the number of times she had met, let alone talked with, her uncle, and he had never left much of a lasting impression. In fact, she recalled resenting him for leaving Aunt Chyou behind all those times, when other ships' captains apparently had no problems taking their families with them on their tours of duty.

_'Then again, if he had…'_

"… and don't hesitate to call on me any time your duties permit, Lieutenant Commander. If you'll pardon my saying so, I'm rather glad your current assignment will be keeping you in port for a little while."

"You're too kind, Lady Chyou."

Xue literally leapt out of his chair at the sound of his mother's voice and, clasping the book to his chest, darted from the room. Mai, meanwhile, got to her feet in a more dignified manner, carefully composing her mask for the oncoming encounter.

Three people were coming down the cool, dimly-lit hallway toward her; Thao's hulking form bringing up the rear, preceded by her Aunt Chyou and the petite lieutenant commander. Zhì, Mai noticed, had dispensed with her uniform armor, opting for her formal officer's tunic and sash of rank: subdued yet respectful attire for an officer visiting another officer's household, without giving an outside observer any clues as to the exact nature of the visitation. _'Very proper and polite; why couldn't she be polite enough to just leave Aunty alone?'_

"Lieutenant Commander Shé! Lieutenant Commander Shé!"

Xue, the little brat, had barreled up to the lieutenant commander and was waving his book in her face. "I found it!"

"Xue, did you take that from your uncle's library?" Chyou asked, too taken aback by her son's trespass to scold him for practically jumping on her guest like a slobbering lion-puppy.

"It's not like he uses it much, and besides, it was Father's book, so that makes it mine," Xue countered.

Had he been in reach, Mai would have kicked him for disrespecting his mother like that to her face (in front of a guest, no less!). _'What a day to be without my daggers,'_ she lamented, mentally adding another tally to her list of grievances against Sharanya.

"Yours or not, Xue, don't you think a gentleman and a future officer would show courtesy to his uncle and ask before entering his private quarters?" Zhì's tone was gentle but stern, her expression as serious as if she were mentoring a wayward ensign.

Xue stilled, gaping at her for a moment before his face went as red as her sash. "Yes…" he mumbled, staring at his toes.

Zhì touched his shoulder and smiled at him when he looked up at her. "I was the one who said I'd like to see the book, so I guess I'm partly to blame," she said. "Can I see it anyway?"

After a glance and an affirming nod from his mother, Xue shyly extended the tome to Zhì, who accepted it with a brief bow before opening the cover. A low whistle sprang from her lips. "First edition? Talk about a treasure! You've kept it in amazing condition, but I guess you knew that."

"Um, my uncle's been taking care of everything my father left me…" Abashed, Xue went back to examining his slippers.

"What a considerate uncle." Zhì handed the book back to Xue. "Tell you what: before I take you on board my ship, I'll send you a signed copy of the manuscript Admiral Pengfei wrote about the history of the _Hui Jian_, all four of them. It's only right that an officer is familiar with the ship he's about to board, right? And that way, you can start building your own library. Sound good?"

Xue beamed at her, his eyes eager and bordering on worshipful. "Yeah!"

"It might be a while before his schooling allows him a break for the tour, Lieutenant Commander, but we will keep your generous offer in mind," Chyou said. Mai was pretty sure she was the only one to pick up on the strained note in her aunt's courtesy.

_'Just barge into their lives and stir everything up why don't you?'_ she thought, glaring at Zhì.

The woman must have had some sort of animal instinct for detecting hostility, for she suddenly looked directly at Mai, her hands flying to her belt as though reaching for a sword hilt. "Oh."

"Ah, Lieutenant Commander Zhì Shé, this is my niece, Lady Mai Sun. Mai, the lieutenant commander called on me today while her ship was in port; she once served under my husband as an ensign."

Mai fully expected Zhì to say something along the lines of "We've met;" the way her lip curled back from her teeth at the sight of Mai indicated that the officer had neither forgotten nor forgiven the "slight" Mai had paid her in the Palace courtyard. To Mai's surprise, however, the lieutenant commander bowed deeply, greeting her with a nonchalant, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Mai."

Aware of Chyou's watchful gaze, Mai bowed at exactly the same depth, replying, "The honor is all mine, Lady Zhì," ignoring her military rank.

Zhì jerked upright, eyes flaring with outright enmity. Still, she did not rise to the bait, but turned to Chyou, bowing once more. "I regret that I must beg leave of you, Lady Chyou; I must return to my ship for the change of the watch. Thank you for accepting me into your home today. Please regard me and my family kindly in the future and should you require anything of me, do not hesitate to ask."

"Please, Lieutenant Commander, no need to be so formal with me!" Chyou ever-so-subtly guided Zhì down the hall, past Mai, into the foyer, smiling all the while. "Consider us friends from today."

Gratified, Zhì's sunburned cheeks reddened further. "Thank you, Lady Chyou. I am honored to call you a friend!"

_'Oh for Agni's sake, catch a clue and leave already.'_ Mai rolled her eyes as the attendant opened the door, revealing Zhì's mongoose-lizard, saddled and ready for departure, just beyond. She rolled them again as Xue followed the departing guest out the door, promising to write the moment his school had a break for him to visit.

After Thao had wrangled Xue back into the house and escorted him to his room, Chyou allowed herself a deep sigh of relief.

"She's like a typhoon, isn't she?" Mai suggested. "Loud, blowing through things without a second thought…"

Although her aunt raised an admonishing eyebrow, she chuckled at Mai's observation. "I suppose. Mai-dear, wrong as it sounds, it's considered improper to refer to female officers of the nobility by anything but their military rank; it's the same rules for men _and_ women nowadays."

"Oh, didn't know that," Mai lied. "Should I apologize to her?"

"I don't think there's much point. But it might come up again in the future, so just be careful." Chyou beckoned for Mai to follow her back into the house. "You came sooner than I expected, though," she said as they climbed the stairs, heading toward her rooms. "I know my letter was sent too late to reach you before you left to meet Grandmother Sharanya, but I was certain Maha would have prepared something a little more… elaborate for you to wear if you agreed. Oh, I don't mean what you're wearing now isn't appropriate, but you know how it is when you make an appearance at a society event!"

"… What?" Mai asked as they entered the sitting room that occupied one half of Chyou's quarters. Its windows, stretching the whole length of wall opposite the door, commanded a less grand view than that from the veranda outside the dining room, but the breezes coming in over the caldera rim from the sea ensured that it was one of the most comfortable rooms in her uncle's mansion, no matter how hotly the summer sun might burn. It only made sense, this having been the guest room back when her Aunt Di'u, Peizhi's wife, was still alive. Mai was glad her uncle had insisted Xue was old enough to have his own room on the first floor, since she doubted she could put up with the boy listening in on their conversation.

"The charity concert the Institute and your Academy is putting on tonight. The invitations went out before I left for Liao Yang, but that was nearly three weeks ago. With everything that's happened in the last couple of days, I thought it best to send you a reminder." Chyou sat down in one of the two chairs beneath the window, Mai taking the other. "You… came straight here from Grandmother Sharanya's house?" She took Mai's silence for an affirmative. "Ah. Well. Since you're here, Mai-dear, would you please come? I know it's very short notice, but I think you'll enjoy it – there will be plenty of your old classmates attending, and it would be fun to see what they've been up to, don't you think?"

"Not really," Mai said, a sudden sneaking suspicion stealing over her. Chyou looked the picture of innocence, but Mai knew all sorts of plots could be brewing behind that mask.

Chyou's face fell and she sighed. "A pity. Since I'm chairwoman of the event, I was given the prime box; you know, the one next to the one reserved for the Fire Lord, right over the "flower path"? You can look out over the entire theater and no one can see you from the floor or any of the other boxes."

"Yes, I know that one," Mai agreed, doubly certain now that Chyou was up to something. "If you're the one in charge of the show, I'll bet it'll be a good one.

"Oh, yes – all the best students from both schools will be performing. One girl in particular: Sundari of the Lài clan is…" Chyou touched her finger to her chin. "Then again, since Xue refused to go, I suppose it's for the best. He needs someone to look in on him, to make sure he's doing his studies rather than reading those other books. Mai, do you mind paying me back a favor and…?"

"But who likes hearing about concerts second-hand anyway?" Mai interrupted, just a little too quickly. When Chyou played the guilt tile, she was plotting in earnest, and Mai knew better than to try and maneuver around her aunt when she got like that. _'Boring as any concert might be, like hell I'm going to baby-sit Xue!'_ "But I might not have the time to go all the way back home and…"

"Mistress, please pardon my rudeness, but a parcel has arrived for Lady Mai." Chyou's maid appeared at the door, burdened with a cedar clothes chest Mai recognized as one (among many) she had taken to Omashu.

_'… She totally planned this.'_ Mai shook her head, more impressed than annoyed.

"Ah, your Maha really is the perfect steward, don't you think?" Chyou asked, pretending she had not noticed. "Linh, put that in my room and set the garments out, then go and tell the attendant to draw the bath for my niece. I imagine nothing would feel better than a relaxing bath after your trip, right, Mai-dear?"

A bath sounded like heaven right about now; it would be a relief to wash away the dust and aches from her trip to Sharanya's. _'At least Aunty's gracious in victory,'_ she conceded. "Thanks Aunty, that would be wonderful."

Chyou smiled and patted her hand. "Take your time, Mai-dear – I'll take care of everything else."

_'I don't doubt it.'_

* * *

"You know, you should wear your hair like this for festivals and other events; it looks so pretty on you!" Chyou said as she put the finishing touches on Mai's hairstyle. Returning from her bath as the sun set, she found Chyou had laid out various hair ornaments she had purchased in expectation of Mai accompanying her to the theater. Among them was a bronze piece and pair of gilt hair-sticks that reminded her of the ones she had used when she, Azula, and Ty Lee had infiltrated Ba Sing Se disguised as Kyoshi Warriors. Seeing Mai's interest, Chyou immediately offered to put them to use, since they would match perfectly with the robe Maha had sent along. With a brief description from Mai, Chyou easily replicated the hairstyle, adding a few embellishments of her own, to include a golden butterfly pin at the base of the bun piled high on her niece's head.

Mai, sitting straight and still, watched her aunt in the mirror. Chyou had taken off her veil so as not to get any makeup on it and looked years younger for its lacking. She sang softly as she worked, an old song about a lady whose hair was so beautifully black, the starlight would get trapped in it when she went out at night, gradually turning it silver. It was silly, but Mai could not help but think about the times she had sat in her mother's lap as a little girl, the hairdresser putting Mother's hair up, her mother combing Mai's hair and tying those stupid ribboned kerchiefs on either side of her head. Mother could not sing, but she had always hummed, mostly melodies from popular songs, but every once and a while, a lullaby slipped in there…

"Mai, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Aunty," Mai said, getting to her feet. "Thank you for doing my hair."

"You're welcome…" Her aunt seemed on the verge of saying something, changed her mind and told Linh to fetch her makeup case. Mai only took a bit of rouge for herself, and let Chyou line her eyes with kohl and the barest hint of gold-dust. The maid helped Mai dress, since the long sash and the belt accompanying it required a rather finicky knot in the back to fall properly; the trailing loops of silk drooping from her waist were silly in Mai's opinion, but they were the current theater-going fashion, according to Chyou. _'Should I be worried that Maha already had an outfit like this on stand-by for me?'_ Mai wondered. _'I'll bet my best dagger this is what that "discretionary expense" entry was in the ledger for last month...'_ Then again, Maha had also sent along her gloves, gauntlets and small thigh holsters (containing five knives each), so she supposed she could just chalk it up to him being the "perfect steward." _'Maybe it's worth it to let him call me "Young Mistress" after all…'_

Chyou raised her eyebrow at the gauntlets and knives, but said nothing as Mai put them on, the wide brocade trim of her over-robe doing a better job of concealing them than even her customary clothes did. "I don't suppose Grandmother Sharanya asked for any gossip while you were over there?" she said suddenly.

Mai clicked her left gauntlet in place and shrugged the bell of her sleeve over her hand. "No. She doesn't seem the gossipy type," Mai replied evenly, pretending to adjust her bodice.

"That's… true," said Chyou. "I suppose you're like her in that way." Mai flinched, but Chyou had turned to pick up her fan from the dresser and missed it. "Your uncle mentioned something interesting he heard in the Ministry of Justice yesterday. Not quite gossip, but maybe something to intrigue Grandmother Sharanya. Governor Niran's daughter is going to make an appearance before the Fire Lord and the Court soon. Maybe she would be interested in attending."

"Who?" Mai asked offhandedly, just in case Chyou was about to start quizzing her on just what, exactly, she and Sharanya _had_ talked about.

"Oh, Suchin of the Kuo clan, the daughter of the governor of Wǎn Territory. Rumor has it that she's coming to testify about the state of affairs in her father's territory in his place."

That got her attention. "A governor refuses a Fire Lord's summons, then sends his daughter instead?" she demanded.

"It's not unprecedented," Chyou observed soothingly. "She's his eldest and, by all accounts, his favorite. A suitable hostage if something… untoward happens."

"That's assuming he actually cares that much about his daughter," Mai said under her breath.

"There's also the assassination of Governor Niran's wife, Lady Mi, six months ago. The investigation was concluded, but the official findings were never reported to the Court. Perhaps he saw it as a way to send her safely out of danger and yet make it seem he still has control over his territory."

Mai felt sick to her stomach all of a sudden. "She's coming to report on her mother's murder? To the whole Court?"

Chyou tilted her head, holding her palms up. "That's what Peizhi thinks, at least. Rather cruel, I agree. But I've also heard that her coming here has nothing to do with that at all, that she's actually the Kuo candidate for the Fire Lord's wife."

The sick feeling vanished immediately. "Oh?"

"And with the Teng clan candidate, that would make her the second governors' daughter to be a candidate. Third, technically." She gave Mai significant Look.

"I," Mai said coldly, "am _not_ a "candidate" for anything, least of all to be Fire Lady. I _am_ the one Zuko loves. And that's all that matters."

"I sincerely hope so," Chyou said in a quiet voice.

"Mistress?" Linh came into the room (Mai had not noticed she had even left) carrying a veil of very fine, almost translucent, white silk. "Master Peizhi has returned, and asked me to tell you that he will be accompanying you and Lady Mai to the concert after all. He asks that you give him a little while to prepare."

"Of course! Please tell him that I am glad he found the time to come!"

"Aunty…" Mai began after Linh had bowed and gone to carry out her mistress's bidding.

"Yes, Mai-dear?" Chyou asked, pinning the last fold of silk in place, the blush on her cheeks not the product of any rouge.

"… Never mind." _'I suppose it's up to her how long she plans to keep wearing it. Maybe it's the only way to keep the clan from forcing them to marry…'_

* * *

**A/N:** Well, hello there, slew of social conventions. People talk about how Mai seems to dislike being a noble of the Fire Nation. While I would qualify that assertion, I decided to present a sample of reasons why that might be...

Anywho, I'll be taking a hiatus from this fic - at least two weeks, but likely a month. Real life and all that.


	7. Book 01, Chapter 05: COSTUMES

**-Danger,Deceit-**

**Book 01.: Fire Nation**

**Chapter .05: COSTUMES**

[_See and be seen, but prefer the former._]

* * *

The Institute of Aesthetic and Cultural Studies' "Hundred Blooming Flowers Theater" was located between the respective campuses of the Institute and the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, right on the northernmost shore of Lake Jin Wen. Built in the latter half of Sozin's regime, the theater reflected a turning point in Fire Nation architecture, between the airy, sweeping heights of the old style (inspired by the Air Nomad designs of the Western Air Temple), and the more imposing, linear and swept-angle mode of "functionalism" that would become the norm of construction of Fire Nation Continental government buildings. Whoever had designed the theater was obviously influenced more by the former than the latter, and the result was, even by Mai's estimate… beautiful.

The Theater was actually a complex of smaller galleries and seminar rooms ensconced in the east and west wings fronting the broad, lantern-lit avenue leading up the central hall, the main stage where the Institute put on seasonal pageants for the gratification of the parents and other relatives of its students (and the utter boredom of their younger siblings and cousins). But it did not end there; behind the central hall was the Jade Promenade, a wide terrace bordered by jade-leaf hedges and weeping cypresses wending down to the Cypress Pavilion, a huge wooden stage open on all eight sides, where the ancient rites of solstice festivals were reinterpreted in dances and musical performances. It was also the launching point of the dragon-boat races held every year in commemoration of the founding of the Fire Nation over three thousand years ago (though since Sozin's great-grandfather's time, this "founding day" was combined with the reigning Fire Lord's birthday - a cost-cutting measure that became a sacred tradition).

It was the stone dragons climbing over the eaves and columns of the balcony above the central hall's massive doors, open wide to admit the stream of patrons for the night's charitable venture, that made Mai think of the dragon-boats. Last year, the state of emergency in the capital had made holding the races on Zuko's eighteenth birthday a risky prospect; on Iroh and the commander of the Palace Guards' advice (but against the wishes of the rest of the Council, as he told her later) Zuko had called off the celebration. Mai had thought it a bad idea at the time, since, as the scion of a traditional clan, she was aware of the symbolic value of the festival and suspected that many nobles saw Zuko's caution as weakness. She had held her tongue at the time, though, since the last thing Zuko needed when dealing with the threat of a coup was her second-guessing what must have been an agonizing decision for him. _'The Avatar was also pretty disappointed, though I guess it would be a bit much for a fourteen year-old airbender to get why harping on past dragon-boat races might get on Zuko's nerves.'_ Of course, Aang's surprise visit on Zuko's birthday had had more serious purpose behind it, none the least of which was the secret personal letter from the new Earth King, Qiang, cautiously extending an offer to open negotiations regarding the colonial issue. At the time, however, Aang's "cover act" of... being himself had made a tense situation worse, no matter what masks the Court might paste on when confronted with the person most responsible for the Fire Nation giving up its successful war. _'Hopefully, this year he gives us a heads up, at the very least...'_

"Mai-dear, are you sure you're feeling all right?" Once again, Chyou's concerned question snapped her back to the present.

"Just admiring the decorations, Aunty," Mai replied, taking the program her aunt was holding out to her. "It's so... _colorful_ in here."

"Yes, the Fourth Class was asked to come up with the theme and take charge of decorating," said Chyou, raising her eyebrow to indicate she had caught the note of sarcasm in her niece's voice. "I believe they called it 'The Turning of Summer in the Bamboo Forest.'"

"... What do banners of pink, purple, and red have to do with bamboo _or_ summer?" Mai wanted to know, indicating the high-ceilinged lobby and mezzanine with a sweep of her eyes. Admittedly, the curtains of shimmering silk did a decent job of covering up the overly-ornate gold bas-relief panels of traditional dancers and musicians that graced the interior of the hall, but someone had had the "brilliant" idea of accentuating the color combination with strings of slender leaves of copper and bronze that tinkled and clashed with every shiver and billow of the curtains. Students from the Institute and the Academy, dressed in bell-sleeved formal uniform robes of white with red shoulder cloths, mingled with the patrons, discussing the décor on display or answering questions about the event, seating arrangements, and the menu of refreshments being served at intermission.

"They're... painted with silhouettes of bamboo?" Chyou pointed out hesitantly. Mai gave her a look and Chyou sighed in resignation. "I never understood the Modern Aesthetic movement when I went to school here; I'd always hoped it was just a fad."

"I thought you were all for 'experimentation' in the arts, Aunty," her niece reminded her rather gleefully.

Chyou was saved from having to answer by their sudden (and noisy) convergence with a covey of noblewomen she introduced to Mai as fellow members of the committee that had organized the charity concert.

"Have you ever been to the hospital on Liao Yang?" a Lady Kanok from some-such clan asked Mai breathlessly, her large amber eyes startlingly ringed with thick lines of kohl. "Isn't it a lovely place nowadays? Your aunt was so clever, organizing concerts like this and convincing the Navy and Army to help pay for reconstruction, as well they should have, they...!"

"I'm sure the Lady Mai is too busy with her studies," interrupted Lady Wan of the Xú clan, staring down at Mai over her third chin and impressive bust. The condescending smile she bestowed on her reminded Mai of the way Murni had surveyed her the other day; the old biddy was not nearly as skillful at concealing her thoughts as her younger relative, which amused Mai.

"Yes, keeping my nose buried in books all the time, it makes me worry that I'll forget how to talk with other people or even walk without banging into door frames," she said, enjoying the way the woman's ink-stained eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement.

"Oho, I imagine all your... _meetings_ in the Inner Palace must alleviate your anxiety over something like that, even if you do hide yourself away from the rest of society," remarked Lady Ya of Zhao, a vassal of the Teng clan.

"Oh, Mai-dear, I think your uncle might have gone looking for the way up to our box; do you mind giving him this program?" Chyou asked, wielding the thick paper like a war fan, scattering the women clustering around Mai like pig-chickens shooed from a feed trough.

"Yes, Aunty. It was a pleasure to make acquaintance with you venerable ladies," Mai said through grit teeth, bowing and making a beeline across the foyer toward the staircase where her uncle waited.

"Got through the gauntlet none the less for the wear, I hope?" he asked her as she handed off the program. As her uncle was hardly a man given to outbursts of emotion, the fact that he was smirking without even bothering to hide it was as good as anyone else laughing their head off. "Your aunt anticipated the ambush, but I was the gate tile in case the vulture-wasps got too... enthusiastic."

"I don't know why you and I couldn't just go up to the box while she does her committee thing," Mai muttered. The increasing volume of the ever-larger crowd milling about the lobby and the clash of various strong perfumes worn by both men and women was starting to give her a headache.

"Doing what we dislike in order to maintain face with the other clans is part of being of the noble class, and something you especially need to get used to," Peizhi replied. However, he seemed more concerned with keeping an eye on Chyou than in preaching. Not that Chyou was doing anything special or unusual, far as Mai saw. Her aunt was in her element, holding court as dozens of patrons surrounded her, probably expressing admiration for the soldiers' hospital and the charity her aunt had set up for it, how it was wonderful to raise cultural awareness at the same time. _'Basically, they love a chance to make themselves look good. At least they have the manners to thank her for giving them another opportunity to put their virtue on display.'_ Not that she would ever say so to Chyou; looking at the way she smiled, Mai supposed it was a good thing for her aunt to have something that made her so genuinely happy.

There were more than a few senior military officers, both Army and Navy, in attendance, standing out in the crowd in their dress uniforms. A couple of the Navy captains in particular seemed intent on monopolizing Chyou's attention, and Mai wondered if they might have served with her Uncle Ta one point. "Uncle Peizhi, do you...?"

"If you will excuse me, Mai, I think it's time we got your aunt up to the box before they drag her off to handle a crisis backstage or some other such nonsense."

"All... right..." Mai agreed, surprised as Peizhi waded into the crowd, rather much like the prow of a battleship plowing through a sea (an image helped by the fact that he was wearing rather old-fashioned black formal robes). Chyou immediately but gracefully extracted herself from the officers and committee members hanging about and took Peizhi's arm. It had to be Mai's imagination that Peizhi glared at the captain who made a move to follow them.

"Oh, it's getting rather warm in here, don't you think, Mai-dear?" Chyou asked, laughing and fanning herself with her program as they rejoined her. Her eyes were shining with excitement. "Let's go up to the box, I want to see what they've done to the stage since yesterday!"

"Sure." Mai followed behind her aunt and uncle, still arm-and-arm, up to the relative quiet of the mezzanine. There were no gaudy banners up here to clash with the theater's usual decor, provided one did not turn around to look up or out over the lobby, and a cool night breeze wafted through the open windows and the balcony over on the far side of floor, softly scented with cypress.

"Good evening," Chyou said to the attendant guarding the short flight of wooden steps up to the central boxes. "I am Lady Chyou, and these are my guests for the evening." She handed her ministry seal to the attendant, who wore the Institute's Third Class uniform, her flowing black hair decorated with a single red peony behind her right ear. Given that she was on the rather short and plump side, Mai guessed she was likely a member of the music or visual arts school, rather than a dancer.

The girl hardly glanced at the seal. "Welcome back to the Hundred Blooming Flowers Theater, Lady Chyou!" she said, bowing low. Looking around furtively, she took a thin scroll from her long white sleeve. "Um, pardon me, but... do you mind signing my program? It's from your last alumni exhibition, three years ago."

"I would be glad to! But I'm afraid I didn't bring my brush set..." The girl had already reached into her other sleeve, producing a thin box containing a calligraphy brush and a stoppered jar of ready-made crimson ink. Mai wondered what else she had up there.

"I volunteered to help with the concert when I heard you were in charge of it," she babbled as she unrolled the scroll so Chyou could sign the bottom. Unlike the printed programs passed out for the benefit concert, it was a work of art in its own right, the names of the performers executed in ancient characters, then repeated in modern style alongside their particular discipline and honors. Chyou had top billing that year, one of two National Distinguished Artists listed. "I was sick the day they held tryouts for the accompanists, so I just had to find a way to meet you, even if all I did was watch the boxes!"

Chyou did not seem at all uncomfortable with the gushing, but Mai found herself edging away from the fangirl. Even Peizhi was looking wary. "I'm guessing you play the dan ty ba lute, Lady...?"

"Oh, yes, I do! How did you guess? And I'm Tam, of the Liao clan."

"Well, Lady Tam, I wish you the best of luck in your studies. I hope I can attend your graduation exhibition when it's held," Chyou said, writing a brief message and signing it.

"I'll send you an invitation the day I get recognized!" Tam promised, carefully draping the scroll over her arm so as to let the ink dry. Suddenly remembering her real job, she turned and unhooked the scarlet silk rope that "barricaded" the stairs up to the boxes. "Please, follow me to your seats!" she urged, face as red as the peony in her hair.

_'Finally!'_ Mai happened to catch her uncle's eye at just that moment; clearly, the same exact thought had occurred to him at that same precise moment.

"Oh, stop it, you two," Chyou scolded under her breath as they snickered behind her.

"I suppose we just realized that people tend to get a little starstruck around you, Chyou," Peizhi commented, by way of apology.

Chyou glanced back, cheeks bright pink as he stepped up to the top of the flight of stairs beside her. "Now you're just teasing," she said lightly.

"Not really..."

Mai had a sudden, strange idea that she was intruding on something with her mere presence.

"Lady Chyou, this way please!" Tam beckoned them with a fluttery wave of her free sleeve toward a door a little ways down the rosewood-paneled hall. As her aunt and uncle moved off, Mai allowed her attention to be diverted to another set of doors, these embellished with an old-style gilt dragon protectively encircling the three-pointed flame emblem of the Fire Nation. A placard hanging from the lintel unnecessarily informed her, _"This box reserved for members of the Royal Family. Long Live Fire Lord Zuko!"_ Below the placard, a knot of scarlet silk rope tied the doors' handles together, the only lock needed against casual incursion into the royal sanctuary.

_'I wonder what it would be like, to go to a concert like this with Zuko, going up to this box, knowing everyone was staring up at us, trying to see us... guards at the door, on the stairs, keeping everyone away... does Zuko even __**like**__ going to the theater?'_ She shook her head, even as she stepped toward the door. _'Not like it matters. Even if I'd had time to ask him to come, he wouldn't have had time for me...'_

"Ah, excuse me... your aunt and uncle are already seated."

"Thank you," Mai said, giving Tam a disdainful look.

The girl's smile no longer reached her eyes. "It's too early to assume you can just walk into that box, Lady Mai," she said in an amiable voice. "Maybe you never will."

"Oh?" Mai asked, cold and calm.

"Indeed." Tam indicated the door Chyou and Peizhi had gone through, her false smile widening. "Shall I take you to your proper place, or shall I have the Keepers of Cultural Propriety escort you?" Another student in the same uniform as Tam appeared in the corridor, leading another group of theater-goers to another box, their chatter subdued as befit such august surroundings. One of the committee members from earlier, the Lady Kanok, noticed Mai, and waved cheerfully to her as they passed by.

_'You smug little...!'_ Mai ground her teeth, right hand sliding out of the slit in her robe where her knives sat against her thigh. Tam was deliberately provoking her, knowing that Mai could not respond without embarrassing her aunt. _ 'She's not a candidate. Which clan do the Liao owe allegiance to?'_ "Thank you, but no; your assistance is not necessary."

"Ah, well - enjoy the concert, Lady Mai." Tam bowed, but did not move until Mai turned away from the dragon door toward her aunt's box.

_'I shouldn't have come tonight, I should have known it would turn out like this.'_ For a wild moment, she was angry at Chyou for setting her up. _'Don't be ridiculous - Aunty wouldn't do something like that!'_ she snapped at herself as she slid open the door to the box and stepped into the small, shadowed room.

"... and look, they got the lanterns for the flower path installed in time! I think I told you, they told me yesterday that it might not be possible, and I was so worried, especially since some of the costumes the girls will be wearing have trains and long sleeves!"

"I think I remember you mentioning that..."

The box was constructed to seat six people comfortably, the slightly bowed plaster walls cushioned with thick silk in such a way that every sound from the still dark stage, the rustle of clothing scraping against the lowered curtain, the muted _tap-tap-tap_ of stagehands running across it, were as crystal clear as if Mai were standing on it. One of the stagehands, clad head-to-toe in black, was busy lighting the bronze lattice-screened lanterns lining the raised flower path that ran from the rear of the theater to the stage, cutting the wide seating arena in half. Mai could hear the squeak of the lantern's door opening and the quiet _fwoosh_ of the wick catching alight.

"... the Lai clan's Sundari, you know, the Palace Guards' commanding officer's daughter, _her_ costumes were the ones that worried me most, but I think she took offense to the idea that a firebender of her skill would accidentally catch herself on fire."

"Hm..."

The box would seat six people comfortably... but Chyou and Peizhi sat very close together at the front, Chyou pointing things out to Peizhi and talking excitedly and Peizhi not looking at all where she pointed, his attention only on Chyou, his face turned so that Mai could see the soft, longing smile on his face that Chyou could not as she looked out at the stage.

Mai ducked out of the box so quickly the people in the hallway must have thought she was thrown out. Ignoring them (and Tam) as she hurried past the girl down the steps to the mezzanine, Mai tried to get ahold of herself.

_'When did it happen? How long have they been like this? I thought Aunty only lived in Uncle's house because that's what was expected of her! If that's how they are, why does she still wear her veil?'_ There was still a crowd milling about the lobby, so Mai headed along the bay of windows to the balcony, searching for a safe place to calm down, away from prying eyes. _'Safe, ha! I guess that's what that box is __**for**__, but why'd __**I**__ have to walk in on them like that! Why did Aunty invite me if she wanted a chance to be alone with him?'_ She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassed heat and leapt over the rope barricade that shut off the darkened balcony without a break in her stride, welcoming the concealing embrace of shadows.

It was quiet here in the darkness, lit only by the lanterns of the mezzanine behind her and the lights of the avenue beyond the balcony. The alcoves on either side of the doors leading out to the balcony were cozy little places, perfect for intimate conversations at intermission. Mai hurried out to the deserted balcony, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and the moment she had witnessed. _ 'Maybe I'm just over-thinking things...'_

The air was blessedly cool out on the balcony, and Mai heaved a sigh of relief. Laughter and snatches of conversation drifted up to her as more patrons climbed the steps and entered the theater through the doors just below, but Mai looked out over the expanse before her, the gradual slope of the caldera lifting the distant artisan's district above the shores of Lake Jin Wen. The street-corner lanterns were like scattered stars, but warm and clearly human, each one representing neighborhoods of dozens of families. Thousands of people, maybe even tens of thousands, lived in the capital, most of whom she would never meet, but who, one day, would look at her from afar, standing beside Zuko. Mai had never thought about it, but found herself wondering what they would think of him, of her; would their gaze be admiring, indifferent... hostile?

Shaking her head against the strange track her thoughts were wending down tonight, Mai looked to her left, where the outer wall and the east wing of the Palace ought to be visible... and started back. She was not alone on the balcony.

She must have gasped or made some sort of noise, for the other person, who had been leaning against one of the stone dragons winding up a supporting column, pulled back from the balustrade, staring at her in surprise. A girl, wearing a high-collared, long sleeved white tunic over a trailing skirt of Royal Academy crimson; the black flame sigil of the Third Year hung on the center of her red shoulder cloth and a cluster of snow orchids had been twined into her upswept brown hair.

Before Mai could say a word, the girl's expression of surprise shifted to recognition and from thence... a moment of fear, swallowed up by suspicion and anger.

"Hello," she said, her nasal, northern Continental accent the same tone someone might use when a cat dropped a dead helmet beetle on their slipper. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Was it just her night to get sneered at by vassals of noble clans? But where Tam had simply mocked, this girl regarded her with nothing short of _hatred. 'What's her problem?'_ "No, I just came out here for some air. But I suppose I'll just leave."

"Sure, do that - since you can't do anything or go anywhere without someone stronger to back you up," she heard the girl mutter as she resumed her former position against the railing.

Mai hesitated, debating whether she ought to respond to that bizarre statement.

"Lán? Lán! There you are!" Mai and the girl both turned as another young woman ran out onto the balcony, her stylish crimson robes swirling about her voluptuous body as if speaking for their wearer's anxiety. Dozens of tiny bronze bells dangled from her gold sashes, jangling with every motion. "Everyone's looking for you!"

_'...Purple?'_ Mai wondered, realizing the outlandish shade of the newcomer's hair was not a trick of the dim light. Not that dying one's hair was uncommon in the Court, but... _'Purple?'_

The girl (Lán, apparently) ducked her head, looking every inch the guilty, chastened child. "I just..."

"Lán, I know you're anxious about your performance," the young woman said, adjusting the orchids in the girl's hair, "but, really, is this the way for a governor's daughter to... oh!"

Mai wondered if the woman honestly had not noticed her before, or if she was acting surprised to cover up something else. Whatever the case, she smiled as she bowed in greeting, feigning ignorance of Mai's staring. "Good evening, Lady...?"

"Mai, of clan Sun," Lán supplied, wrinkling her snub, freckled nose, like the epithet left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Ah, then, Lady Mai," the woman said, laying a hand on Lán's shoulder as if to warn the girl against anymore of her weird outbursts, "please pardon my interruption into your and Lán's conversation. The stage director and Lady Lán's cousin became alarmed by her absence backstage, so close to the start of this evening's concert and I was sent to look for her..."

"Why?" Lán snapped, shrugging away from the touch. "It's not like I'm the opening act, and besides, I'm already wearing my stupid costume!" She pulled at the tight, gold-embroidered collar of her tunic to emphasize her argument. "I'm just playing a flute solo - it's no big deal if I...!"

"I was hoping to hear you play," the young woman interjected wistfully. "After all those times listening to you practice, it would be wonderful to hear the audience applaud you. And I'm sure your mother would want to know how her daughter shared her talent with her countrymen."

"... Mother's not here," Lán retorted under her breath, but her frown was less pronounced, her shoulders less stiff.

_'Is there a school for teaching how to guilt-trip people like that, or is it just a gift?'_ The purple-haired woman, whoever she was (the brat's tutor, maybe?), looked, at first glance, like any other fluttery, overdressed, overly-made-up, overfed noblewoman (save for her hair color). Her round face lacked a single hard line to lend her anything other than an air of fatuous contentedness, a striking contrast to the girl's baby-cheeked peevishness.

Nothing remotely intelligent in her appearance, except... her warm red-brown eyes appraised Mai, aware of her scrutiny and amused by it. "I'm sure Lady Mai would agree with me, that a noblewoman of your clan, whose skill recommends her to the worthy cause of Lady Chyou's charity should, at the very least, not allow her personal... reservations to interrupt the evening's program?"

_'Why is she dragging __**me**__ into this?'_ Mai was tempted to recommend that the brat scurry on home if she was not done with her hissy fit (possibly taking a running jump into Lake Jin Wen to cool off along the way).

"I'm not playing for _her_, her aunt, or that... charity!" hissed Lán. "I'll play for you, Priya, and that's it!"

"Ah-ra." The woman, Priya, beamed and hugged Lán. "Then, I'm honored. It's sure to be a beautiful performance."

Lán blushed bright red, glaring at Mai over Priya's shoulder, daring her to comment.

Silly, since Mai could care less about that. _'Lán and Priya... so, two of the "candidates" just happen to be here at Aunty's concert?'_ Chyou probably thought she had been doing Mai a favor, inviting her along to get a look at her so-called "competition." _'I probably wasn't supposed to leave the box, though. Best-laid plans, and all that.'_ Annoyed as she might be, she could not deny the least little bit of satisfaction of having sized up the two girls for herself. _'The Teng must be desperate, to nominate a brat like __**her**__ to be Zuko's wife.'_ Priya was another story, though; Mai could not quite put her finger on it, but the purple-haired woman had to be hiding something, demonstrative as she was.

As if she had spoken these thoughts aloud, Lán's eyes narrowed and she pulled away from Priya. "Of course, it's not a problem to play for people who have the heart of an artist, even if they aren't given a certificate by the State. I mean, if it weren't for you being here, Priya," she said with a shrug, "it'd be like playing to crowd of tone-deaf koala-sheep." _'Like you,'_ her look added to Mai.

"Ah-ra, I think there are at least a couple of people from the Institute who meet that standard," Priya replied with a sigh, the only indication she _might_ be frustrated with the girl's recalcitrance. "Lady Chyou, for example; it was her manuscript on music theory you showed me the other day, wasn't it?"

Lán's lips pursed at the veiled admonition. _'Your friend has more sense than you, brat,'_ Mai thought at her, quirking an eyebrow.

With a growl, Lán turned away, stomping back to the railing in a huff. "I'll go backstage when the concert begins!" she announced. "Tell Madam Singh for me."

"... I suppose I could go back without you," Priya remarked, making it sound like Lán had spurned her affection by her refusal. "I'm sure Madam Singh and the other students will be understanding of your... dilemma." She took a few steps toward the exit, then turned, waiting for her words to sink in.

_'"Dilemma," in that she's a spoiled little brat.'_ Mai was thoroughly bored of the silliness, but the idea of going back to the box (and, more specifically, what she might walk in on!) convinced her to linger a little while longer. _'It's like I'm having my own private performance: an old-style comedy, of the little princess and her maid, and everyone's expected to learn something in the end.'_ She had always hated those kinds of plays; the morals were obvious, and the characters were predictable, idiotic caricatures that had failed to entertain her, even as a child. Ty Lee, naturally, loved them, and Azula had had a simple solution to being forced to endure them: throw a tantrum and set the stage on fire. _'Hmmm...'_

"Fine, whatever." Lán looked over her shoulder and frowned at Mai. "Sorry we're not amusing you, but I _was_ out here first. Feel free to scurry back inside anytime."

Annoyed (and more than a little disconcerted at the way the brat seemed to keep reading her mind), Mai frowned right back, but something below caught Lán's attention before she could retort. "Oh, look! Priya, it's Murni! She was able to come after all!" Smirking at Mai, who had involuntarily grimaced at the name, Lán stepped up on the stone coil of the dragon's tail wrapped around base of the column, boosting herself above the balcony railing.

"Lán, don't, you shouldn't...!" Priya began, stepping toward the girl, hand extended as though she could compel the girl's obedience like a puppet-master compels a marionette.

Lán ignored her, hiking one knee up on the railing and gripping one of the dragon's extended claws in order to lean out and wave with her free hand, calling, "Murni! Murni, up he- !"

It happened in an instant; the railing gave way, no more than a hairsbreadth and then the dragon's claw, weakened by decades of wind and rain, snapped in the girl's hand as she lost her balance and tried to regain it. Mai stepped back, instinctively recoiling from the horrible thing about to occur.

There was a jingle of bronze bells, a whirl of silks, and suddenly, Priya was standing between Lán and the treacherous railing, her right arm tight around the white-faced girl's waist, her left hand _pulling the railing back into place_. "Lán, might I have the claws?" she asked softly, looking straight at Mai.

Trembling, Lán handed the object over without comment. Very deliberately, without letting go of Lán or even turning her head, Priya pressed the disembodied appendage against the stump of the wrist, her fingers smoothing over the scales.

"Why don't we go backstage now," she said. Without waiting for Lán to respond, Priya more or less carried the girl off the balcony, nodding to Mai as they departed.

Mai waited a moment before walking over to the column and inspecting the dragon. _ 'No seams, nothing. She didn't use firebending to seal it in place.'_ One glance at the railing confirmed her conclusion: Priya was an earthbender. _'I suppose that gossip about her being illegitimate has some merit after all...'_

But did that matter? Priya did not seem to care that she used earthbending (something that _ought_ to be shameful for a young woman in her position) in front of Mai, ostensibly her main "competition." _'Obviously, she wanted to cover for the little brat... and since no one but the three of us were up here and there's no evidence...'_ Mai shook her head. Of course, that was it: Lán was obviously an unfit "candidate," so if Mai were to go about claiming she had seen proof that Priya was probably not her father's daughter, her own credibility would be damaged and Priya's status would be elevated for the simple fact that the Fire Lord's girlfriend was "jealous" of her. _'Nice try! Like I even have to be concerned about that, anyway.'_

The gong would soon sound to begin the concert and there was no more chatter from the avenue below. If she waited any longer, Chyou would probably start looking for her, and Mai was not about to give Tam a chance to watch Mai having to explain herself.

_'Everyone one of them, these... "candidates" and their minions,_' Mai thought as she turned away from the railing and walked back into the shadows of the theater, _'if they're not trying to hide who they really are, they act...'_

"... no better than commoners, aren't they?"

Mai whipped her head to the side; someone had spoken practically in her ear. A tall young woman, her hair pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, smiled at Mai. She wore a black, full-length robe, belted at the waist with a grey sash, which explained why Mai had almost walked past her without noticing. "That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?" she added.

_'What's with people and __**lurking**__ in this theater?'_ The girl was either a stagehand or one of the evening's performers who had not gotten into her costume yet. Given how pretty she was, the softness of her voice, and the proud way she held herself, Mai was inclined toward the latter.

"Hee hee..." A younger girl, who had been sitting on the settee in the back corner, bounced up beside the speaker. Though her hair was caught up in a long braid and her brightly-colored evening robes glittered in the dim light with baubles that made the other girl's robe seem even more plain by comparison, Mai discerned enough similarity in their features to guess that they were siblings. The braided girl wrapped her arms around her sister's waist, head tilted as she stared at Mai with wide golden eyes.

Mai's breath caught; their color was wrong, she was too young, too small, but... _'Ty Lee?'_

"Those girls must've really scared you," the Ty Lee look-alike observed. "You look like you've just seen a ghost!" She grinned, all but giggling at Mai's discomfort.

She did not have to put up with this. Mai straightened and turned away from the weird pair. As she stepped back into the glare of the mezzanine, she heard the little girl say, "_That's_ your competition, Sun-sun? She looks like an ostrich-hors...!"

"Sh, Kalai!"

Mai did not turn back, since she spied Chyou coming down the stairs, the worry on her face clear across the mezzanine. Thank Spirits Tam was nowhere in sight. _'Probably ducked back down her spider-snake hole.'_

"Mai-dear, there you are!" Her aunt dropped all pretense of decorum and literally ran to meet her niece. "Lady Tam said that you looked ill, so I sent her to fetch a doctor while I...!"

Mai groaned internally. _'This is what I get for letting Aunty guilt me into something.'_ "I think Lady Tam was exaggerating. Actually, I was just meeting with some... _interesting_ young ladies, and I lost track of time. That's what you wanted, right, Aunty?"

She could not help the tone of accusation that slipped in, but Chyou pretended not to notice. "Well, I can't say that I didn't hope you'd find some more interesting diversion here tonight than your aunt and uncle. It can't be all that fun for girls your age to have to entertain old fuddy-duddies like us all the time, much as I enjoy it. It's just not fair to you."

Mai was _almost_ certain Chyou was not trying to guilt her on purpose. All the same, she felt a reflexive embarrassment for having leveled what might very well be a baseless charge at one of the only people in the world, outside of Zuko and Ty Lee, who actually cared about her.

_'Speaking of Ty Lee...'_ "Let's get back to the box, Aunty," Mai said, looking back at the shadows she had come from. No sign of the girls, but they had to come out sometime. The sound of a gong being struck somewhere down in the lobby below punctuated the thought. As Chyou and Mai mounted the stairs, she glanced back one last time as theater attendants dimmed the lanterns. No one had come out; was there another way backstage that they might have taken?

"I found her, Peizhi," Chyou said as they slipped into the box. Mai's uncle appeared genuinely relieved, even as he shot her a look, admonishing her for making her aunt worry. "She got caught up in a conversation with a few other young ladies." They took their seats (Mai taking the far corner so her aunt and uncle could sit together) and Chyou handed her a program, noting, "The last two performances will probably interest you. Lady Sundari of the Lài clan is already a Distinguished Artist, even though she's only seventeen."

Mai, who had already spotted Lán's name on the program (playing _An Orchid Blooming in Early Spring_ - Madam Singhe's simplistic sense of humor had not evolved at all, apparently), made the connection in an instant. _ '"Sun-sun" was it? Could there be a more insipid nickname?'_ "Would Lady Sundari happen to be the Lài hopeful?" she asked boredly, pretending to inspect the audience below over the edge of her program. Chyou had not been lying when she said one could see everything (or every_one_, more importantly) from this vantage point. Although this was just a school production, every seat in the arena below was occupied. Mai caught sight of Priya's hair, tinted red in the light from the lanterns lining the flower path. Though the light was too dim to be certain, the person sitting bolt upright next to her _had_ to be that Murni girl the brat had risked her life trying to get the attention of. _ 'Does that mean the Teng, Tuan, __**and **__the Xú have already become allies, or are those girls pretending to be friends while... wait, why do I care?'_

"Whatever the rumors say," Chyou said as the lights lowered and the whispers of the audience ceased like they had all been struck dumb in the same instant, "Lady Sundari is one of those you can't really look away from. There are others, of course, but she is... exceptional."

"We'll see..." Mai muttered as red and yellow light flooded the stage...

* * *

**A/N:** Well, hi there - I'm still alive, apparently. And to celebrate, I'm offloading a crap-ton of new characters, cultural and historical allusions, and political and social intrigue on you all.

And now I'm going to disappear for another month. 8D


	8. Book 01, Chapter 06: SONGS

**-Danger,Deceit-  
Book 01.: Fire Nation  
Chapter .06: SONGS  
**

[_There is a song to touch every heart._] 

* * *

'_Pretty standard fare_,' Mai appraised as the concert wore on. Or, at least, she imagined it had to be; she had not been to an Institute cultural pageant since she had been a little girl. Chyou was her only relative of any consequence with connection to the school, and Mai's mother had been very good at finding excuses to turn down recital invitations (eventually, Chyou took the hint and stopped sending them). Even when Ozai had usurped the throne, and it might have been expected that Mai would be roped into royal obligations, _somehow_, Azula had wriggled out of it and saved her "friends" the trouble as well.

Her lack of cultural indoctrination notwithstanding, it only made sense to front-load the concert with musical ensembles, such as the one currently on stage, featuring twelve young women with various string instruments demonstrating variations on _Dance of Spirits,_ an old folk tune. Watching people play instruments was boring, no matter how pretty the music might be. Watching people, especially attractive girls, dance around, throwing multi-colored fire, was not.

Unfortunately, the latter sort of exhibition invariably involved drums, which Mai hated, both because they gave her a headache and kept her awake. Speaking of which... Mai wrested herself from her state of half-doze as polite applause signaled the end of the twelve girls' ensemble.

Chyou leaned to her as the stage darkened, transitioning to the next act, the last one before the intermission. "I've heard about the Teng girl's talent, but I've never heard her myself. Since she's the only non-Institute student to merit a solo act, I imagine she's worth staying awake for, don't you think?"

"Maybe," Mai conceded, straightening in her chair. It was annoying, the way Chyou noticed things.

The stage lights went up, a subdued mix of blue and white, an impression of winter's cold. Lán stood center stage, while an older girl in plain white robes hung about near the backdrop, seated at a yangqin dulcimer. Mai could just imagine the scolding the little brat got behind the scenes before she went on. The sour expression on Lán's face informed everyone in the theater that this concert was a huge personal imposition, and the way she clutched her dizi flute made it look like she was of half a mind to fling it at the music master's head.

_'Now **that** would be interesting,'_ Mai reflected. However, given how Priya had guilted the girl into good behavior (and saved her life from her own stupidity), it seemed unlikely to happen. _'Too bad...'_

The music master raised her hand, and Lán raised the flute to her lips. She took a deep breath, eyes searching the crowd, seeking... finding...

The first throbbing notes of the flute, soft and mournful, evoked falling snow. The ethereal hum-drum of the yangqin dulcimer joined in, and suddenly, a chill breeze stirred the air, scattering flakes of snow. _ 'Cold, so cold, these northern winds... shall the sun ever be loosed, to free the orchid, sleeping, imprisoned in icy earth?'_ Mai started and sat up, shivering. Poetry. The little brat's playing actually made her think poetry! _'How the hell...?'_ She glanced aside at her aunt; Chyou watched Lán, one finger tucked under her chin, eyes shining, an artist appreciating another artist. Her uncle, who had adopted much the same posture as his niece throughout the night's performance, was sitting forward, enraptured by the blizzard the girl had conjured with her flute. It was... _beautiful_, terribly beautiful, and Mai shivered again. On and on, the storm raged, and the orchid yearned to be free...

And just like that, it ended. Oh, there might have been a lessening in the wind toward the last measure or so, but Mai was certainly left more with the impression of the terrifying grip of winter than the warmth that heralded the first budding orchid of spring, the whole point of the piece. She was hardly the only one; the applause that followed the long moments of silence after the last noted died away was hesitant, as though the patrons expected the girl to bring the song to its proper conclusion and were only just catching on that it was over. Lán, however, bowed perfunctorily and marched off the stage before the clapping reached ovation, prompted in no small part by Chyou getting to her feet and applauding with all her might.

"Well!" she exclaimed, dropping down into her seat and fanning herself with her program as the house lights went up for the intermission. "Well!"

"Chyou, please," Peizhi began, recognizing the ferocious glint in his sister-in-law's eye, "if the girl's family intended her to become a musician, they would have enrolled her in the Institute to begin with..."

"It's not impossible to arrange a transfer, with full credit!" Chyou interrupted in such a tone that Peizhi's mouth snapped shut and Mai scooted to the far edge of her seat. The theater below was emptying, the babble of conversations rising and falling like waves on a shore as people moved about. Much as Mai detested the idea of going out and mixing it up with the social class, she never felt safe around Chyou when her aunt was in a plotting mood; she had ended up here as a result of the last one, after all! "I think I'm going to have a little chat with Madame Singh. Mai, would you like to come along and say hello to your old teacher?"

"No, that's fine, you go ahead Aunty," Mai said as calmly as possible. "But you can tell her I said hello."

"All right, I'll pass along the message." As soon as her aunt left the box, Mai let out the breath she had been holding. Normally, Chyou would have found a way to coax (drag) her along, but since her aunt was intent on her newest scheme, she let her niece's anti-social behavior slip. _'I guess owe the little brat for this one.'_ She allowed herself a small, vicious smirk; if Lán could not deal with someone like Priya, Chyou was going to roll over her like a double-plated tank. _'Maybe I can grab some fire-flakes and sneak backstage in time...'_

"By the way, Mai..." Peizhi glanced behind them to the closed door of the box, then moved into the chair Chyou had vacated. "You've probably guessed the real reason your aunt brought you here?" he asked at just above a whisper.

Mai nodded, unable to keep from frowning as her momentary good mood was spoiled.

"She's worried about you," her uncle explained, conciliatory but still stern. "She and I both want you to be happy, and if marrying that b... the Fire Lord is what will make you happy, then..."

"Uncle Peizhi, I know you feel responsible for me, but really, I can handle it myself," Mai interrupted, wishing she could just sink into her chair and disappear. Of all the people to happen upon her right after she had discovered Zuko's letter, it _would_ have been her uncle. She could not even recall why he had showed up at her parents' house at all, but when he had seen the look on her face and the scroll in her hand, he had sat her down and subjected her to an interrogation that would have put the Inquisitor Unit of the Office of Reclamation, Restitution, and Retribution to shame. She had never been all that close to her father's older brother, even before Aunt Di'u died, but that night had marked a change. Uncle Peizhi had taken Zuko's letter as an unforgivable insult to his niece (and the Sun clan as a whole), and he, as her uncle and _de facto_ guardian in her parents' absence, was essentially obligated to take that insult out on Zuko's hide. The way her uncle told her the story (a year later, once things had calmed down), throwing the future Fire Lord in the ice-box had only been the first step. Mai never told Zuko that he had been very lucky she had shown up when she did and thrown that stupid scroll at his stupid head, ensuring he would keep possession of it.

Though her uncle never said so, Mai was fairly certain he still disliked Zuko and doubted his worthiness for her.

Peizhi's forehead furrowed, less a sign of anger than of regret. "Mai, if it were as simple as you being with the boy you... have affection for," he said carefully, "then believe me when I say that I'd find some way to convince Chyou to let you go about it without her meddling."

Mai raised an eyebrow.

"Some way, somehow," he asserted wryly. "And Chyou wouldn't need much convincing, _if_ things were that simple."

Mai sighed and rubbed her temples. "But because they're not, because Zuko's the Fire Lord, because I'm a noblewoman, because there are other clans just as strong as the Sun with daughters suitable for a royal marriage, and because the rules of society dictate that politics are more important than a person's feelings, you both have to help me, is that it?" Even to her own ears, she sounded like that little brat, Lán, whining about having to play her stupid flute. _'Still, it isn't fair! Even the Avatar can be with whoever he wants, without anyone interfering!'_

"I knew you understood, even if you don't want to," Peizhi said. His gaze drifted out over the stage. "Our privilege as nobility obliges us to uphold the traditions and expectations of our class; without them, we'd be no better off than savages."

"Thank you, Uncle Peizhi, for your consideration," she said formally, bowing her head so she could safely roll her eyes. "I will keep your counsel in mind."

"Hm." He stood and looked at her, about to say something before he changed his mind. "I'm going to the lobby," he said awkwardly. "Is there anything you want from the concession menu?"

"No, I'm all right. Thank you, though." As the door slid to, Mai slouched back her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and stared at the latticed frame of stage. Her right gauntlet creaked softly in protest to how tightly she pressed it against the left. _'Almost time to get it refitted again,'_ she thought, welcoming a mundane distraction to her current dark thoughts. No matter the care she took, wood and metal both were succumbing to age and wear. She had received them at her twelfth Summer Solstice Festival, from her _mother_, of all people. Even now, five years later, Mai shook her head in astonishment over it. After a whole year of demanding that her daughter give up her "unladylike obsession," her mother had placed the heavy rosewood box in Mai's wary hands. Her only response to Mai's excited gasp upon opening the case and seeing the gauntlets on their silk cushion had been a sniff and a muttered, "Well, there are just some things you don't fight against."

_ 'Still don't know what she meant about that. I mean, the servants had already found almost all of the knives the White Lion-Dog gave me. Maybe she thought I had more she just couldn't find. Well, whatever.'_

Speaking of white lion-dogs... Mai checked the program again, since there really was not anything else to do in the box (well, other than taking shots at that peony sigil carved into the frame above the stage, but Chyou would probably notice right off if she did). _'Should I really expect less from a girl who thinks she can marry the Fire Lord?'_ Mai thought, curling her lip. After a group ensemble dance, the next number was _The Dragon Queen Assembles Her Troops,_ with Sundari in the lead role, naturally.

Based on _The Tale of Lady Zai Qian, or The Golden Spear of the King Dragon Spirit_ from the "official history" of the Fire Nation, _The Record of Foregone Deeds_ (little more than a glorified book of fairy-tales, as everyone knew), the dance was about the legendary Battle of the Sacred Crater, where Lady Zai Qian, the mythic founder of the ruling Fire Nation dynasty, and her allies, the Four Sacred Warriors, defeated the evil Tyrant Priest-King of the Sun Warriors and established what would become the capital city of the Fire Nation. More specifically, the piece was about the run-up _to_ said battle, and was really an act from the much longer classical opera of the same name as the old story. The full opera was, in essence, an undisguised tribute to the virtue and legitimacy of the royal line, who claimed to be Zai Qian's direct descendants. Pure propaganda, but old enough to be considered traditional; the Institute itself housed the oldest known complete libretto and score of _The Tale_, transcribed over eight hundred years ago.

(However, the reference to the Priest-King, who, in legend and the opera, was a usurper as well as a tyrant, was probably why no troupe or school ever put on a performance of the opera during the eight years of Ozai's reign.)

Other than the actual battle piece, _The Dragon Queen Assembles Her Troops_ was the most popular episode. Although it only featured five players, they were all supposed to be the best of the best, and each individual dance was meant to emphasize mastery of one of the Five Classical Styles of Fire Dance: Dancing Phoenix, Singing Dawn, Burning Lotus, Gentle Sword, and "Wild Torrent." According to Chyou, while the order of character introduction was set, there was no rule saying one character had to do a dance in any one particular style. It was a pretty safe bet, however, that Xuan Wu, the Snake-Tortoise of the North would do Gentle Sword; Sei Ru, the Blue Dragon-Deer of the East would do Singing Dawn; the Vermilion Bird of the South, Que Zu, was always a master of Dancing Phoenix.

When it came to the last two, Jishi Ku, the White Lion-Dog of the West, and Zai Qian herself, it was a little less certain. Given that "Wild Torrent," a waterbending-based dance form, had been declared "subversive" under Azulon (though Mai did not know why, since the Fire Nation had, in effect, conquered Southern Water Tribe and reduced the Northern Tribe to neutrality in his time), there were very few masters of it, and it had not appeared on any Fire Nation stage in at least fifty years. In the old days, "Wild Torrent" had been Zai Qian's, and Burning Lotus, a highly energetic style, belonged to the brash character of Jishi Ku. But since Burning Lotus was the most attention-grabbing of the approved dance styles, it tended to go to Zai Qian, whilst Jishi Ku often had to make do with one of the other styles, or risk being shown up (or worse, showing up Zai Qian).

As a child, listening to Chyou talk about the stories and dances, Mai had always thought that was unfair to Jishi Ku, whom she secretly liked because the White Lion-Dog had been the only one of the Four with any personality, who had once stood up to Zai Qian herself when she thought her queen had gone too far. And then there had been the time at Mai's eleventh Summer Solstice Festival, when she had actually _met_ the White Lion-Dog herself...

_'You mean, someone **dressed** like her,'_ Mai scolded herself for her momentary slip into childish fantasy. Whoever the stranger wearing the Jishi Ku mask had been, Mai would never forget her words, or her gift:

"Even if you have no fire or fangs, you can still have claws," she had said in Mai's ear, the bronze bells decorating her mane tinkling like wind chimes. No one seemed to notice, too busy looking up at the fireworks that lit up the night sky. Mai shied away, but not before a slim wallet of red leather, plain as could be, was pressed into her hand. She had opened it and discovered ten beautiful, crimson-enameled knives, each no longer than her palm.

"But be careful not to bare your claws unless you're certain you can strike true," Jishi Ku cautioned, raising a hand and, with a flick of her wrist, sending three similar knives into the trunk of a willow twenty paces to Mai's right without even turning her head. When Mai looked back to ask who and why, the Lion-Dog had disappeared. It took her months (and the loss of more than half her knives, both to her mother's searches and her own lack of skill) to send more than one knife at a time exactly where she wanted. And when, in eighteen months, she mastered the feat Jishi Ku had shown her, she eagerly looked for her at the next solstice, her thirteenth.

But Jishi Ku never reappeared.

_'I suppose one visit in a lifetime from a warrior of legend is as much as a child should expect,'_ Mai told herself, annoyed that she still felt the gentle sting of disappointment after all this time. She only had one of the original knives left; it served as the model for the ones she inevitably lost over the years, though of course the ones she used now were longer and heavier. She supposed holding onto it was sentimental. It certainly was _not_ because she hoped that it was some sort of talisman that would cause the Warrior to return. _'If she ever **does** show up again...'_

The lights in the theater began to flicker; the concert would resume in a couple of minutes. Just as Mai began to wonder what was keeping her aunt and uncle, the door to the box slid open and Chyou, followed by Peizhi, entered.

"So, how did...?"

"I'm not giving up yet, I don't care what that girl says!" Chyou announced, the gleam in her eye dangerously bright and the set of her smile patently alarming. "That Tuan woman and the Xú girl can't be around her all the time, and Madam Singh can't pretend that she isn't the least bit interested in cultivating such a talent and think she can fool me!"

_'She can if she's dealt with that pain in the ass for more than five minutes.'_ Mai decided it was up to Chyou to learn how obnoxious Lán could be.

"Looks like the show's about to start," Peizhi interjected, pointing out the obvious in a bid to distract Chyou from her fervor.

It worked, but only because the lights on the stage went up and Chyou instinctively reverted to a more peaceful spectator mode.

The ensemble dance went on far too long in Mai's opinion, and the accompanying flutist was hardly up to Lán's standard. She supposed it was impressive enough, that that many girls bended that much fire in that many colors in perfect synchronization, but then, so could a squad of well-drilled Fire Army soldiers, and _their_ bending actually had a point besides looking pretty!

"Finally..." she muttered as the dancers fluttered off the stage like the flower petals or birds or whatever they were supposed to have personified.

The front half of the stage went dark, revealing that the backdrop of the dance had been a mere translucent curtain. Five shadows, the one in the center towering over the others, posed dramatically, backlit by an unsettling blood-red light.

_*clack!*_

A lantern flared to life, revealing a young woman crouched stage right, ghostly white from head to foot, her hair hidden beneath at veil much like Chyou's. Her eyes, outlined in red and black, stood out stark against her rice flour-whitened face. A delicate side drum was tucked against her left thigh, its skin pulled tight with the cords wrapped around the fingers of her left hand.

_*clack!*_

Like a scorpion-snake, her right hand struck the drum once more, the thick paper wrapped around her fingers bright red, drawing attention to them.

"_Upon the shoulder of Mount Huo-kou are  
arrayed the armies of the Dragon Queen_," she sang, her high voice warbling and drawing out every word with great dramatic emphasis. The shrill _plink-plank-plunk_ of plucked shamisen strings joined in from some player obscured behind the lattice stage frame.

_'I **hate** narrators...'_ Mai thought, resisting the urge to plug her ears. The girl was singing above of her range, heaping indignity upon injury. Mai could only imagine what torture it was like for a professional like Chyou.

The curtain sailed up into the rafters, revealing the Four Sacred Warriors and Zai Qian, the Dragon Queen.

_ 'Given that this is **the** school of the arts for the whole Fire Nation, of course their costumes would be top-notch, even for a charity concert._' Mai snorted as she got a good look of Zai Qian. All the legends spoke of her height, but was standing on a platform and hiding it with that ridiculous golden "dragon scale" cloak really as creative as Sundari could get? The spear in her right hand, decorated with a tuft of "dragon's mane," was only outdone in silliness by the ancient-styled helmet she wore, its outsized, articulated brim drooping nearly to her shoulders, its crowning horns surmounted by a plain bronze-colored disc, a very obvious allusion to the King Dragon Spirit, Huánglóng. _'I guess I should be impressed if she manages to take a step in that get-up without falling flat on her face.'_

From the look on Sudari's white-painted face (or, at least what Mai could see of it between the winglike plates bowing out along her cheeks), she did not appear to have the slightest apprehension she could do that, and more.

_*clack!*_

"Below, in shadow, the warriors of  
the Tyrant Priest-King gaze up in terror!"

Mai supposed she would be terrified, too, if her opponent were inflicting such a high-pitched assault on her eardrums.

_*clack!*_

"Xuan Wu, shield-bearer, the Black Snake-Tortoise,  
from the North came she, holds forth now, proudly..."

"Ah, they went _very_ traditional for this!" Chyou could not help remarking, touching Mai's hand as the dark-clad Xuan Wu dancer assumed center stage. Instead of a black band painted across her eyes, symbolizing Xuan Wu's blindness (the story went that the Tyrant Priest-King had burned Xuan Wu's eyes out in retaliation for refusing his advances), the dancer wore an actual blindfold. Her slow, gliding movements had to stem as much from her imposed sightlessness as the intentional choreography. The huge round shield slung on her back probably did not help matters.

"_For thee, Zai Qian, steadfast be my shield  
and fierce be my lash upon those who wield  
for that usurper their devoted flame.  
Retribution for stolen sight I claim!_" Xuan Wu declared, not so much singing in a low alto as chanting. At least it did not stab the ears like the narrator's shrilling.

A large drum sounded from the rear of the stage. Xuan Wu's shield somehow went from her back to her left forearm in one sweeping gesture, revealing the white painted outlines of a snake-tortoise coiled around its center; a neat trick that garnered applause from the audience. A stream of white flame trickled from the fingers of her right hand as she slowly turned, the soft, steady beat of the drum opening the dance as a lute and zither joined in.

Xuan Wu's subdued, methodical dance was not meant to excite. Mai knew enough from observing Azula and Zuko that it was all about the long ribbon of flame, which the dancer manipulated as though it were a charmed serpent in her hand, coiling about her, then flicking out to strike at invisible enemies. The control required for such a feat was staggering.

*_clack!_*

Mai breathed out as the dance ended, Xuan Wu returning to her position at Zai Qian's left hand, the lash of fire dissipating. '_I wonder if Zuko ever considered taking up classical dance as a way to improve his firebending...'_

"Next in turn, softly, speaketh now, the East's  
serene Dragon-Deer, Sei Ru lamenting:"

Of all the Warriors, Sei Ru was Mai's least favorite, mainly because she was considered the model of the "virtuous noblewoman": quiet and retiring to the point of inert, concerned only for her clan, and loyal unto death to her leader. She was also supposed to have been a master archer, such that the Yuu Yan claimed her as their honored ancestor. But of course the Academy never paid much attention to that latter aspect.

Sei Ru, short horns and pointed ears affixed to her conical blue cap, pranced to the center of the stage, bowing deferentially to Zai Qian and the audience. Unlike Xuan Wu's plain black garb , Sei Ru's costume glittered with glass scales, sewn over the rich blue silk of her tunic and leggings, modeled on the Yuu Yan uniform. Even the design painted on her face evoked the elite warrior group, although Mai doubted any of them would be caught dead holding the stylized shortbow in her hands.

An erhu spoke up.

"_Lo, the spirits of my children cry out,_" Sei Ru sang, sweet and delicate as birdsong,  
"_'Deliver the unjust, with fire put to rout  
he, who hath virtue lost and outrage wrought.'  
For them, Zai Qian, I plead: falter not!"_

'And the reason **she** couldn't be the narrator was because...?' Mai wondered as Sei Ru danced about, bending "arrows" of yellow-tinged indigo fire to loose from her plaything of a bow. The girl had obviously been chosen for her singing voice, not necessarily her dancing ability, which was passable.

*_clack!*_

***Toom-TOM-TOOM!***

The sudden thunder of the large drum caused Mai to start. Sei Ru's dance had lulled her into a false sense of security.

_"Now sound the war-drums; forth the Scarlet Bird:  
Que Zu of the South. And thus she declaims,_" shrieked the narrator to be heard over the drums.

With a clash of cymbals, Que Zu advanced.

"_From our nights' mourning, from our days of grief,  
from misery borne by all without surcease,  
our deliverance, Zai Qian. Rise now,  
southern brethren, fulfill our solemn vow!_" trilled the brilliantly plumed Que Zu, gesturing with her twin daggers, spinning them by the red streamers attached to their hilts until wheels of fire blazed and swirled around her. Dancing Phoenix style was all about flash and acrobatics; Ty Lee had once wistfully mentioned that, had she been born a firebender, she would have loved to learn it. Watching Que Zu cavort about, her vermilion sleeves flashing with gold-embroidered "feathers," Mai considered that, even without bending, Ty Lee would have made the better bird. '_I wish she were here to see this,_' she found herself thinking. How many months had it been since Ty Lee's last letter?

*_clack!_*

The throaty moan of a shell trumpet shuddered the sudden silence that befell the drums.

"_As the horns call out, the White Lion-Dog  
of the West stands forth: Jishi Ku shall speak._"

Mai leaned forward in her chair.

The bronze bells around her ankles jangling, Jishi Ku strode to her place, every movement confident to the point of arrogance. She reminded Mai of Toph, and not just because she was barefoot or the shortest of the group: Jishi Ku looked the type to brawl with anyone willing, no matter their rank or strength. Her wild, white mane ought to have been ridiculous, but it looked a part of her, like the dancer was indeed mothered by a lion-dog.

From somewhere in her mane, Jishi Ku drew her sun-and-moon swords and stamped her foot, thrusting one above her head and leveling the other at the audience, as though they were the army of the Tyrant Priest-King. The black lines scrawling across her face made her scowl all the more fierce.

*_**Toom-TOM-TOOM!***_

*clack!*

"By the King Dragon Spirit bestowed fang and mane,  
to thee, Zai Qian, do I pledge the same," Jishi Ku shouted, stamping her foot again.  
"_I, the last, the last of my murdered clan,  
shall see justice returned to this island!_"

The noise from the drums and cymbals was deafening, but Mai hardly noticed. _This_ was what true Burning Lotus looked like: Jishi Ku, running wild! Red, white, and orange fire, kicked up from her feet, swirled around her, dancing around the crescent blade at the hilt, streaming around the hooked blade at the end until it seemed there were three wicked claws curving out from each weapon. Stamping, roaring, striking - Jishi Ku was working herself up into a frenzy, too eager for the battle to start! She might even tear apart the stage!

*_toom!_*

Jishi Ku froze, arrested by the abrupt hush of the drums. Zai Qian had silenced them with a thump of her spear's foot on the ground.

*_clack!*_

Nock arrow to bow and stretch sinew tight!" the narrator sang a trifle shakily, as though trying to recover from the savagery of Jishi Ku's dance.  
"_Cast earth upon your hands and take your shield,  
spear, and dagger all. Call upon the fire  
that within all virtuous warriors  
dwell! At last, Zai Qian, Dragon Queen, speaks:_"

The dragon-scale cloak dropped from Sundari's shoulders. _'Wait, she was standing on **those** the whole time?'_ Mai thought as more than a few gasps of surprise from the audience greeted the sight.

Strapped to Sundari's feet were a pair of peasant sandals, bits of wood worn to stride through and above the muck of a flooded rice paddy. But no peasant wore such _tall_ sandals, not if there was only a single "tooth" to balance on! Seeing her standing on stilts like that should have made Mai laugh, but...

Moving like a lotus floating across the face of a garden pond, Zai Qian advanced to Jishi Ku, her left hand outstretched.

"_The east burns red beneath Agni's fierce eye,  
lit with the promise of battle's approach,_" she sang, the softness of her voice a jarring counterpoint to the storm and fury just before. Her range was not impressive, not after Sei Ru's performance, but it carried well enough.  
"_Oh, Warriors, my sisters by  
plea and pledge, shared sorrow and oath:  
Hear what I would ask of thee, beg of thee!_"

Zai Qian and Jishi Ku stared at each other, and for a moment, Mai wondered if the frenzied Jishi Ku would strike at her queen.

All of sudden, the Warrior's shoulders drooped, her head bowing. The audience sighed in relief. Zai Qian smiled and touched her shoulder, serene in her trust of her comrade. Jishi Ku moved back to join the others, ceding the stage to Zai Qian.

The shamisen and erhu sang out. Without preamble, Sundari raised her left foot high and tucked the spear, point down, behind her, balancing only on the thin plank of wood strapped to her right foot.

"Dancing Phoenix?" Mai heard Chyou mutter, puzzled.

"_With wounded hearts, yet steady flame,  
With unbowed spirit and firm hand,_" Sundari sang, tracing the air, white flame trailing from her fingers in ghostly echo of Xuan Wu's Gentle Sword,  
"_We five, for our people, shall claim  
this day: Justice, right, from wronged land,  
And with dragon's might, cast down yon tyrant!_"

The last word, shouted, was the cue for the drums to start up again. Sundari brought her foot down, leapt and whirled, twirling the spear above her head; if Mai did not know better, she would have said that move looked more like something Jishi Ku would do than any Dancing Phoenix. A ribbon of fire snaked along the length of the spear, and Sundari paused, crouching, watching it grow with Sei Ru's attentiveness. The snake of fire blossomed and the dance assumed Que Zu's flashy agility, the spear spinning a huge blazing wheel of red-gold above her horned helmet.

And then the dance changed all together, flames of all colors swirling around Sundari, frightening and lovely, a whirlpool of fire. _'Is **this** "Wild Torrent"?'_ Mai wondered, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

In the midst of the maelstrom, Zai Qian sang out:

"_Yet, not for vengeance desired  
beside me stand, oh Warriors,  
lest our hearts in hatred be mired,  
lest we become what we forswore,  
should anger feed our fire and we become our foe!_"

The flames faded and Zai Qian stood alone, her face raised as if to the sky, contemplating the Heavens. Though, from Mai's vantage point, Sundari was looking right at the Fire Lord's box, and spoke to the one who should be there:

"_For more noble, pure, our undertaking:  
a Lord, wise and kind, free of vice or hate,  
honored, only virtue in peace seeking;  
in him will I place my trust and fate."_

'What?'

"I see she lives up to her reputation for spontaneous verse," Chyou assessed as the drums thundered once more and Zai Qian led her Warriors in a charge down the flower path, ending the performance.

"I doubt any of it was 'spontaneous'!" Mai seethed, a resounding ovation enveloping the theater as the lights dimmed again. "How could they let her get away with that?"

"She's that good," was Chyou's simple answer.

Scowling, Mai sat bolt upright in her chair. All that remained of the concert was Sundari's solo, the _Lament of Lady Zhaoji_. A story so popular, it had been retold dozens of times, hundreds of different ways, by the lowest wandering acting troupe to the Royal Court Opera. A story so popular and so convoluted and contradictory that the existence of Lady Zhaoji itself would have been open for debate, if not for the very real collection of poems and compositions for the guzheng zither she had left behind twelve hundred years ago. _"Songs of the Hidden North"_ was mandatory reading for any schoolchild in the Fire Nation, and an entire course at the Institute was devoted to studying it. Exhibiting _The Lament_ before such a high-brow audience, in such an illustrious venue, whether in song, dance, or instrument, immediately advertised an artist's nobility and cultural propriety.

_'How clever of her,'_ Mai thought bitterly as blue-shaded lanterns flickered to life, casting the stage and the flower path in cold, gloomy light.

From the stage, a guzheng zither strummed the opening chords of the dance.

"_My dwelling is this land of frost and snow,_" sang a sweet soprano Mai instantly recognized as the voice of the girl who preformed as Sei Ru, "_But the South winds bring me summer once more._"

A white lantern lit up the end of the flower path just under the box. Mai instinctively leaned over to see what was going on.

A sigh rippled through the audience as Sundari stepped forward, no longer garbed as the fiercely proud Dragon Queen, but now as the Lady Zhaoji, the stolen noblewoman, the forced bride of a Northern Water Tribe warlord. Her flowing robes, dark blue silk trimmed in white fluff (a stand-in for fur), covered her from throat to foot. Even Mai had to admit that the transformation was complete; Sundari might as well have been another person all together, just from the way she held herself, tragically beautiful in defeat.

"_They whisper of my homeland, far distant,  
A song of seven years passed, years stolen._"

Lady Zhaoji glided down the flower path to the stage and posed again, head tilted against the back of her hand as she looked out over the audience, eyes shimmering. _'Wonder what she used to get them to water like that?'_ Then again, Sundari was probably one of those actresses who could cry on cue. _'Baaaaaaarf...'_

"Memories stirred, I think of my belov'd,  
Whilst I draw a long sigh of deep sorrow.

Am I yet a woman of the South Land?  
The Fire within me darkens each winter."

The zither strummed, rippling chords over and over, invoking cascading water. Lady Zhaoji began to dance. Mai was fairly certain it was Dancing Phoenix style, but every motion was so slow, so dispirited, and the fire she conjured so faint, that it made her uncomfortable to watch. Firebending was supposed to be bright, intimidating, hot, passionate; could someone beaten down like that still firebend? For some reason, Mai was reminded of Zuko telling her of the time he had lost the ability to firebend, right after Aang accepted him as his sifu...

"_A song of seven stolen years, and yet,  
There are days when I forget my misery._

In my daughter's smile, in my son's embrace,  
A warmth, not of the Sun, grows within me.

Memories fading, my thoughts turn to him,  
my heart wavers, and I espouse the Moon.

Am I yet a woman of the South Land?  
The Fire within me darkens each winter."

The dance became erratic, no fire now. Lady Zhaoji's turmoil, her loyalty to her homeland and her first love warring with her acceptance of her life, her growing feelings for the man who had stolen her and the family she had made with him, built toward the fateful climax...

"_But the South winds bring me summer once more,  
And bear the mist, rising from the dark sea._

If crimson sails are hidden in the cloud,  
will the bright Fire rekindle in my heart?

Or would I hide my face and shrink away,  
no longer a woman of the South Land?

Oh, Winds of the South, who bring me summer,  
The Fire within me darkens each winter,

If I should break with this pathetic life,  
would my spirit join with yours and be free?"

Lady Zhaoji lunged for the edge of the stage, as though it were the edge of a cliff (for a moment, Mai thought Sundari had mis-stepped and would actually fall into the first row of seats).

But at that moment, a horn called out. Lady Zhaoji reeled back from the brink, her eyes wide and confused, terrified and hopeful.

"_Upon the horizon, the dragon sings  
the song of War, flying fast to the North,_

See! the red Zhurong banner, my belov'd,  
Lashing at the too-slow winds that bear him!"

Cymbals clashed and drums boomed, the blue light swallowed up by the fierce red glow of oncoming battle.

"_Upon the shore, war-drums roar their answer,  
and rise up, the North Tribe, seizing their spears!_

And yet my heart turns and twists in the wind:  
Water or Fire, or the embrace of Death?"

Lady Zhaoji tore at her hair, turning and leaping in agony, flames beginning to lick at the sleeves of her robe. Without warning, fire burst from her hands, swirling around her, growing brighter and stronger and hungrier, turning on her as though they had broken free of her control. And still she danced, bringing it to her, embracing the torrent...

"Ah!" Chyou grabbed Mai's arm so hard Mai leapt out of her chair. Her aunt did not seem to notice, though, unable to tear her eyes away from the burning orb that had swallowed Lady Zhaoji.

_'Guess it's more dramatic than a simple quick-change,'_ Mai thought. _'Now, which color is she going to go with?'_ Red for the Fire Nation, blue for the Water Tribe, or white for suicide? It was not too hard to guess...

The fire-orb burst open and the theater gasped: Lady Zhaoji's tunic was blue, but her sleeves and pants were red.

_'**Whaaaaaaaaaaa...**?'_

"My heart cries out, that my lord fall in battle  
Aid me, South Wind, that I may end this war!" Sundari declared, the last fragments of the orb fading blue and red around her.

The theater lights flared and went dark. The clapping, when it finally began, was scattered, nearly overwhelmed by mutters questioning the unorthodox conclusion of the dance. But then the audience seemed to realize just what exactly they had witnessed, and the applause (and a couple of outright _cheers_) crescendoed. The stage lit up once more, crowded by all the students who had performed, excepting one. Only when the spectators shouted Sundari's name did she step forward, wearing the Zai Qian dragon-scale cloak. The response was tremendous; Mai stuffed her fingers in her ears. The performers bowed, left the stage... came back, bowed again, left... Sundari returned, bowed... raised a salute to the boxes and Mai stormed out into the hall, slamming the door behind her.

The noise went on for a good five minutes, giving her plenty of time to collect herself. '_That little...!_' How blatant could she be? Using Aunt Chyou's concert to make a political statement, to make it look like she actually supported Zuko's efforts to achieve peace with the other nations! '_Opportunistic bitch!_' It was such a transparent bid to get into Zuko's good graces! Even if he had not witnessed it for himself, news of the shameless exhibition, every melodramatic detail of it, would reach Zuko before the sun rose tomorrow. After all, Sundari had danced in front of the best of the best of the Fire Nation, nobles of all factions, including those who, for one reason or another, supported the Fire Lord. And, of course, being being the daughter of the commander of Palace Guard, Zuko's bodyguard, there was no way her father would not find some way to bring it to his attention!

'_So clever!_' Mai sucked in a deep breath of air, forcing herself to calm down.

'_Don't lie to yourself; you were impressed. She's good, she's very good. What's more, she's pretty, and the audience responded to her exactly the way she wanted them to. Talk about an ideal Fire Lady...'_

'**SHUT UP!**'

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and Mai nearly leapt out of her skin. "Shall we return home?" Chyou asked, brushing her fingers over Mai's cheek. Any minute now, the hallway would be filled with nobles, chattering about the concert.

"No, Aunty," Mai forced herself to say, "you have to be congratulated by everyone, you can't just leave before..."

"Nonsense. I've had enough of society for one night. Let's go."

Mai could not find it in herself to argue. 

* * *

"Tomorrow, when you see Grandmother Sharanya..."

Mai paused in the midst of wiping away the last trace of makeup and looked over at her aunt.

"Wear these." Chyou held up Mai's left gauntlet.

Surprised, Mai could only scoff, "Right. And I'll be sure to wear my battle holsters as well. They might come in handy for the coup."

Chyou touched the tip of one of the bolts. "Hm... it would be an interesting afternoon, if you were to attempt such a thing."

Mai went to bed, not entirely certain her aunt had been joking...

* * *

**A/N: **So. Very. Many of these. ^^;

* * *

_**The Record of Foregone Deeds**_**:** I based the idea of a "history" of the Fire Nation and it's royal family on the Japanese _Kojiki_ (alt. _Furokotofumi_) (古事記) - _Records of Ancient Matters_. It's a fascinating read, written in the Nara period (early 8th century) to systematize the basis of Shinto beliefs and (more importantly) to legitimize the claim of the Emperor to the throne by affirming his descent from the line of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu (天照). Three cheers for political propaganda!

* * *

**The Four Sacred Warriors:** I based these characters on the four mythological creatures of the four main Chinese constellations, with an Avatar-verse twist:

_1. Azure Dragon of the East_ (青龍) - Blue Dragon-Deer Sei Ru ("dragon-deer" is actually a **kirin** [麒麟], because unicorns are awesome.)

_2. Vermilion Bird of the South_ (朱雀) - Scarlet Bird Que Zu (the Vermilion bird should no be confused with the **Chinese phoenix **[鳳凰], which is associated with the Empress)

_3. White Tiger of the West _(白虎) - White Lion-Dog Jishi Ku (While the name is a reference to the Chinese **shishi** [石獅子], I took the Beast name and characteristics from the Japanese **komainu** [狛犬])

_4. __Black Tortoise of the North_ (玄武) - Black Snake-Tortoise Xuan Wu (Although the name is translated "Black Tortoise," the most common representation of the Beast is a snake-tortoise chimera)

* * *

**King Dragon Spirit Huánglóng:** A reference both to my previous Avatar-fic project, _Tales of the Spirit World: The Fall of the Blue Spirit_ and the Imperial Chinese dragon (黃龍), the Yellow Dragon of the Center.

* * *

_**Lament of Lady Zhaoji**_: The story in this song is inspired by the story of Lady Cai Wenji (蔡文姬), in particular her collected works, _Eighteen songs of a Nomad Flute_ (胡笳十八拍) and the painting _Cai Wenji Returns to Her Homeland_ (文姬歸漢圖). Also, "the South Land" is the ancient Water Tribe name for the Fire Nation islands, and the "Zhurong clan" is the house of the dynasty currently ruling the Fire Nation.


	9. Book 01, Chapter 07: TEACHINGS

**-Danger, Deceit-  
Book 01.: Fire Nation  
Chapter .07: TEACHINGS **

[_To know what we know, and know what we do not know, is wisdom._]  
– Confucius

* * *

Mai woke at dawn, tired and irritated by dreams which fragmented even as she tried to figure out _why_ they had bothered her so much. _'Never mind, then.'_ Staring up at the unfamiliar shadows traced in rosy light on her ceiling, she swiped at her forehead and was surprised to find her hand come away drenched in sweat. _'Stupid humidity. Why'd I sleep with the windows open?'_

_'On the off chance that Zuko would be in a lovey-dovey mood and sneak in like a lover in a romance scroll?'_ her snide internal debate partner suggested.

"Oh, this is going to be _such_ a lovely day," Mai observed aloud, mood soured beyond repair.

In all fairness, the capital was past due for one of those intolerably hot, sticky days summer inflicted every year without fail, but Mai was hardly of a mind to be fair to anyone or anything. Having endured last night's exhibition, the only thing to look "forward" to on this miserable morning was another tea party with Sharanya.

The maid had already laid out a set of formal robes for the day's appointment, doubtless under Maha's orders: heavy crimson shoulder cloths, gold appointments, and a double skirt to keep her strides small and ladylike. Mai curled her lip. That cinched it. She strode into her closet and began pawing through various drawers and boxes. It took a while, but she pulled together a much more comfortable outfit, loose and light, yet of dense enough silk that the outlines of her gauntlets and knife belt would not be readily apparent. No shoulder cloth, but Mai compromised with a madder-dyed over-tunic with flared shoulders. It was as close as she could get to her old robes, now packed away somewhere, archived with the other vestiges of her childhood. Maha could probably find them, if she asked him to.

As Mai adjusted her belt and thigh holsters to match up with the slits in the skirt, the maid returned to be surprised by her mistress's early rising.

"I'll have breakfast in the sunroom," Mai told her before the woman could start making a fuss over her clothes.

"Yes, Mistress," the maid agreed, her eyes on the tray of bolts for Mai's gauntlets. She bowed and left, no doubt hurrying to inform the steward of Mai's modification of the day's wardrobe.

Mai rolled her eyes and clicked a bolt in place. _'Everyone's a critic...'_

* * *

"Young Mistress, we received the full harvest accounts from Higashi Estate last evening," Maha reported after a proper morning salutation. "With your leave..."

"Of course," Mai said, resigned to the idea of working through breakfast. She might as well let Maha get his own back after she skipped out on the bookkeeping the other day; he had been kind enough to restrain his critique of her choice of attire to the raise of a disapproving eyebrow, after all.

A serving maid laid out her breakfast, cool melon juice and milk tea, clear fish broth and cold salty gourd pickles cut into the shape of lotus petals, and a bowl of steaming rice. As hot as it already was, the breeze sighing through the airy sunroom overlooking her garden was cool enough for Mai to appreciate the tempting, delicate scents of breakfast. Without hesitation, she picked up her chopsticks and selected a pickle. "I'll look everything over this evening and approve the final report to be taken to the Treasury tomorrow."

Maha cleared his throat ever-so-softly.

"And the one for the Interior. By tomorrow morning," Mai amended before biting into the pickled "petal."

Her steward bowed. "Very good, Young Mistress. From my initial impressions, it seems that Administrator Satu is an adequate replacement for Foreman Kao. My independent investigation confirms that he works hard to meet the expectations you laid out for him when he was hired last year and that he appears honest in paying wages and contracting competent crews to maintain the silk worm houses and mulberry groves. However, the worm blight is still causing problems; as with Nishi Estate, Higashi produced below seventy percent of its expected capacity." He hesitated, eyes going to the door leading into the house. "Although Administrator Satu makes only brief mention of it in his account," Maha continued, voice pitched lower so only Mai could hear if another servant happened to wander in, "I believe he has the same problem with disaffected veterans that other clans' estates are experiencing in Azuma province."

Mai chewed the ends of her chopsticks. "Are they rioting?"

"Not yet." Maha shook his head. "Nothing like what happened in Xī, but with so many men idle and farms and factories unable to put them to work..."  
He did not need to finish the sentence. The constabularies of Xī and neighboring provinces successfully halted last winter's attempted rebellion before it spread south to the capital and rounded up the leaders before they could flee, but not before they razed half a dozen estates and occupied an active Army supply depot. The traitors' subsequent "suicide while in custody" had not ended the matter, however. The embers of discontent still burned in the hearts of thousands of soldiers demoted to landless peasants with the end of the War.

Though no one mentioned it above a whisper in the Court, one only had to look at the shadowed, harried expressions of Homeland estate holders (and most nobles who were not military officers or descendants thereof drew wealth from Homeland properties, rather than the Continent) to know just who was one poor harvest or missed wage day away from anarchy and ruin. Mai was not nearly in such dire straits, thanks to her investments in various clan consortium and restitution from the state for her father's untimely death, but it was not a problem she could simply disregard. And though Zuko avoided the topic, she knew the prospect of future unrest threatening the capital weighed heavily on him as well.

"That's not to say all the news is grim," Maha said, picking up on her sudden lack of interest in breakfast. "The incorporation of paper mulberry into the wooded stock under your late grandmother's administration is returning increasing standards of crimson cocoons. Such a highly-valued commodity will ensure that you maintain controlling interest in the Sun Silk Cooperative."

Given that Maha only threw in tidbits of good news into a depressing report if there was something additionally unpleasant on the horizon, Mai knew to ask, "What else?" Maha's brows overshadowed his eyes. "Your honorable cousin, Sir Tzián, has sent word that, due to the unrest in Azuma as well as the Hong and Bi Territories, it is likely that the Teng-Sha Corporation will raise prices on dyes, baling, and transport when the Treasury releases the adjusted commodities report."

She stirred her milk tea with a small gold spoon, biting down on a curse. "An excuse for price-gouging; did he make another offer to buy my estates in the same letter, by any chance?"

"Indeed, Young Mistress." Maha hesitated.

"What is it?"

"It is... not unwise to at least consider offering him stock in the Nishi Estate. Sir Tzián's marriage into the Teng clan ensures that the Sun have access to a wider market on the Continent than any other available consortium. It would be in his interest to see that you receive the advantages of both parties if only to further his own profits. At the same time, you could establish an… independent relationship with the Teng and..."

"Enough for now," Mai interrupted, tapping the spoon on the lip of the cup. The sweet drink only somewhat alleviated her growing headache. _'Agni, every little thing - politics, trade, family, __**theater**__, it's all knotted together like spider-snake webs balled up and tossed to a pack of cats!'_ She knew what Maha wanted her to do: compromise with Tzián, lead him into a false sense of security until she found a way to make her own agreements with the Teng... and work out a compromise with them. Her mother's estates had always been intended for Mai when she came of age, the only thing Mai could truly say she owned herself. Silk farms were the traditional dowry of a noblewoman, having been the only landed properties a woman could own and designate heirs to until the Proprietary Reforms under Azulon. It was a measure of Mai's competence (and a small matter of pride) to manage her own property until she married. She had been tempted before, oh yes, to rid herself of the burden of two hundred households (and two hundred families) and hundreds of acres and miles of silk, but offers like her cousin's instinctively raised her hackles. To give him what he wanted was to admit she could not take care of her own household.

_'"Sure, do that - since you can't do anything or go anywhere without someone stronger to back you up."'_ Mai frowned into her cup. _'Like I would throw in with a clan who thinks a brat like __**that**__ is a suitable wife for Zuko.'_ An alliance with the Teng would be admission (and submission) in another form. "I'll keep that in mind, Maha. Send my regards to my cousin..." _'And tell him to go jump off the Gates of Azulon.'_

"Very well, Young Mistress," Maha sighed.

* * *

The forecourt was devoid of life as Mai's chaise rattled through the gates. Small wonder, given the heat radiating from the stone steps through the soles of her slippers as she hastened into the comparative cool of Sharanya's mansion. Only one servant, the old woman from yesterday, was there to meet her. It gave Mai a bit of satisfaction to see the woman's girth made the heat a true ordeal, sweat blackening the grey hair at her temples and staining the back of her red robe with unsightly bits of dark. _'That's what you get if you let your servants wear silk,'_ Mai thought as she followed the woman to the veranda where Sharanya waited.

The woman halted at the door, indicating with a slight bow that Mai was to continue on her own devices, before retreating down the hall, likely in search of a nice basement storeroom to stay "busy" in. Mai snorted and pushed the door aside.

The first thing she noticed as she stepped into the warm shade was the conspicuous lack of people. No servant manning the limply-hanging overhead fan, no girls laying the table (currently cluttered with a collection of blown glass vessels, after the Crystal Flower style of ceremony), and, most importantly, no Sharanya. Mai stared at the empty chair, surprised at how surprised she was by the absence.

_'Another wrinkle in the game?'_ Mai narrowed her eyes and looked about, scanning for signs of... well, anything out of sorts. The last two times she had been on this spot, she had not really had a chance to examine her surroundings, other than the priceless view beyond the veranda. That had been her first mistake, Mai realized, glaring at the door to her right, the one the servants came through on both occasions. How could she have let Sharanya force her to sit in a chair with her back exposed like that?

_'Because you assumed you didn't have to have your guard up against a decrepit hag?'_ "Silly me..." Mai muttered to herself, looking to the other end of the veranda. She raised her eyebrows. _'Wouldn't have mattered either way?'_ What she had assumed was solid wall behind Sharanya on previous visits (not that she had really paid attention to what was behind the old hag - another mistake) was clearly a curtain of sepia-colored silk that matched the wood paneling of the rest of the place. It was certainly wide enough to conceal a door or an alcove of some sort...

Mai palmed a knife from her right holster, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She had no idea how thick the silk was, but given that she was standing in sunlit space, there was a good chance anyone standing on the other side could observe her from its concealing shadow. _'And wouldn't that be just the place for a crazy old bat to sit and laugh? Bet the sight of a knife would change that.'_ Affecting casual curiosity, Mai closed in on the curtain, readying her knife to slice through the folds.

_*tump!*_

Mai whirled, bringing her knife hand to her ear, tightening the trigger cords of her left gauntlet... only to stop and stare in surprise as her great-grandmother made her way across the veranda toward her customary seat, her cane tapping along at a dirge beat. Sharanya ignored Mai (or pretended she was not there - either case was equally insulting) and dropped into the chair with a long sigh.

_'Still playing the senile old woman, are you?'_ Mai glared at the back of Sharanya's chair, but the matriarch made no move or sound, save for her slow, deep breaths. _'Well, hope you've enjoyed yourself...'_ Slipping the knife back into the holster, Mai moved to her place at the table, drawing the chair back and sitting down. The line dividing the shadow of the veranda roof and the hot glare of the climbing sun was just beginning to creep up over the edge of the table. Crystal Flower demanded that Mai time herself just right, filling the wide-mouthed jar with hot water and dropping the tea leaf-swaddled amaranth flowers in it so that they "bloomed" as the full sunlight hit them, releasing the delicate tea. She would then have to present the tea, another blossom floating on top, to Sharanya in a smaller glass before the light became too blinding and the heat too intense, ruining the tea (as well as the comfort of the people involved).

It was a tricky, overly-complex, and faddish style of tea ceremony that Mai frankly thought was beneath Sharanya. It was certainly beneath _her_. Looking across the table at the old woman who had yet to look at her or acknowledge her in anyway, Mai made her decision.

"I've had enough. No more of this!"

Sharanya did not seem to notice her outburst, her vague stare fixed on the warped, shimmering shadow cast by the bowl.

"I know you can hear me!" Mai said, fed up. She shoved away from the table and stood tall. At the sound of the chair screeching back over the polished wood floor, the matriarch finally stirred, blinking slowly up at Mai like an old cat goaded from sleep. Not exactly the reaction Mai expected, but it _was_ a reaction.

"I've had enough of your games," she continued, flexing her fingers under the cover of her sleeves, feeling the weight of her gauntlets. Throwing her shoulders back and glaring down at Sharanya, Mai declared, "You can stop acting now! Whatever this is, some stupid test or just a way to amuse yourself by snapping your fingers and making people jump, I've had enough! No more letters, no more tea ceremonies, I'm through being at your beck and call!"

The hot, wet air took her words, swallowed them, but Mai did not care. Her blood sang in her veins, heart and breath racing like she had jumped from the highest roof of the Royal Palace and landed on her feet. She had done, she had told the old woman off! _'Finally...!'_

"Why should I care what you want?" The retort, shot back in a low, steady voice, snapped Mai out of her daze of invincibility. Cold amber eyes returned her startled gaze with predatory disdain. The hairs on the back of Mai's neck stood straight, the cold-bitter ghost taste of spent lightning glancing over her tongue in memory of another pair of dangerous, too-cunning eyes.

"Perhaps I should clarify the question," Sharanya said, speaking louder in mocking echo of Mai's declaration. "Who are _you_ to dictate to _me_?" "I..." _'Like hell I'm afraid of you!'_ "I am a noblewoman of the Fire Nation!" she said. "I'm the master of my household! You don't have the right to treat me like a child or servant!"

"Don't I?" Sharanya asked, raising a wispy eyebrow. "I am the matriarch of this clan, this _noble_ family, whom you have sneered at and disdained with your sullen silence. You might be a noblewoman, yes - because you were lucky enough to have been born one. You're an adult in the eyes of the State for the sake of legal expedience, nothing more. You hold property as a result of that expedience; you maintain it only by virtue of the efforts of people more talented and dedicated than yourself, whom you take for granted." Mai opened her mouth to protest, but Sharanya went on, implacable as a judge pronouncing sentence. "You demand respect - for what? What have you achieved by your own virtue, discipline, effort, or passion that entitles you to my approbation? What alliances have you built, what influence do you have in the Court? What strength do you lend to our country?" She clicked her tongue against her teeth and looked at the ceiling, heaving a sigh of disgust. "The other clan leaders advance women of grace, talent, ambition, and intelligence, and _what_ does the Sun Clan offer to the Fire Nation but _this_" she looked at Mai again, "_child_ who scorns what she never worked for and stumbles about, oblivious to the danger of her unwarranted arrogance, waiting for a fairy-tale prince to swoop down and marry her!"

_No one_ had ever spoken like that to her before. The sheer volume of contempt Sharanya unleashed literally took Mai's breath away. Old people were not supposed to talk like that, _no one _was supposed to talk like that, not to her! "I don't have to stand here and take your abuse," she informed the matriarch in as aloof a tone as she could scrape together.

"Then sit down," Sharanya suggested.

"I'm not going to let an old woman rant at me just because she thinks she has a say in how I live my life!" Mai shouted. "I don't care if you're the matriarch or… or the Dragon Queen, I'm leaving!"

_'Running away so quickly?'_ a voice that sounded an awful lot like Lán sneered as she turned from the table. _'Do you really think a woman like Sharanya's just going to let your walk out of here after that?'_

_'What...?'_

Out of the corner of her eye, Mai saw the curtain shift. No time to reach for a knife. She pivoted, leveling her right gauntlet and tightening the trigger cords to unleash a flight of bolts.

The soft sound of cloth sliding over cloth whispered behind her. Mai whirled, closing her fist...

*_CRACK!_*

Pain, then frightening paralysis, rippled up her arm; her right gauntlet split under a hammer blow, the ruined halves of the weapon ripping through her sleeve before falling to the floor. Unbalanced by the sudden lack of weight, Mai brought her left gauntlet to bear, firing point-blank in her attacker's face...

*_**CRACK!**_*

The gauntlet shattered under the bared jade teeth of Sharanya's lion-dog-head cane, a misfired bolt scoring the flesh at the base of Mai's thumb as it was ejected from its ruined cavity. Before she could scream in pain, reach for a knife, kick out with an ankle gauntlet, Sharanya closed in, thrusting her cane behind Mai's right leg. Already reeling, Mai fell against the unyielding haft and slammed into the wall behind her, her numbed arms flailing for purchase. Something hard slammed into her solar plexus, pinning her. Sharanya's withered hand flew at her face, nails like claws reaching up as though to scratch her eyes out...!

*_chink!*_

Mai blinked, her vision dancing with dark splotches and sparks. She hissed in a breath and the dark splotches resolved themselves into blurry shadows she realized were fingers. Sharanya's fingers. Something very cold, very sharp, and most definitely metal tickled the skin of her throat just below her jaw. _'What the...?'_

"Among many, you have made two key incorrect assumptions," Sharanya said pleasantly, as though she were not currently holding a spring-loaded dagger at her great-granddaughter's throat or digging the head of her cane into Mai's stomach. "Firstly, that I cannot prevent you from leaving. Secondly, that your life belonged to you after you aligned yourself with the young Fire Lord. I intend to correct these assumptions. It is up to you as to how we go about it. Now, shall we converse like proper noblewomen?"

"H-how..." Mai gasped, more shocked than angry. _'How? An old woman like her? How?'_

"Yes or no, Great-granddaughter. I must warn you, I'm getting on in years and the locking gear in my gauntlet has proved unreliable on occasion." As if to punctuate the statement, a series of minute metallic cricks and creaks sounded uncomfortably close to Mai's ear. One wrong move, on either of their parts...

It occurred to Mai that Sharanya was not the type to bluff once weapons had been drawn.

"Yes," she rasped, choking down on her rage and humiliation, "I would be honored to converse with you, Great-grandmother."

"Good." The hand and dagger went away and the jade lion-dog head dislodged from under her ribs. Mai braced against the wall, her limbs trembling and in no condition to support her. That, the animalistic, uncontrollable response to a brush with Death, more than anything convinced Mai that Sharanya had been (and likely, still was) deadly serious.

_'She's a mad woman,'_ Mai thought, staring at the frail-seeming matriarch stooped over her cane just out of leg's reach, her eyes once more half-closed and sleepy.

"Believe me, if I'd taken leave of my senses," Sharanya said with the hint of a smile, "you wouldn't be here to pout about a little bit of sparring." She turned toward the curtain. "I suppose the sun's too high for a proper tea now. Follow me."

_'She's baiting me,'_ Mai knew, glaring at the old woman's back as Sharanya made her way across the veranda, all-too confident that Mai would heed and obey. Still, the urge was there to pick a knife from her holster and hurl it, if only for the defiance of it. Pushing away from the wall caused her left hand to throb. _'Oh, right,'_ she remembered, hesitating before raising her hand. Bad enough to lose to an old woman, but to have her own weapons turned on her in the process was something particularly galling to acknowledge.

Pulling off her glove and examining the wound, Mai unconsciously loosed a sigh of relief: no serious harm done. _'Still doesn't mean it doesn't sting,'_ a very childish voice pointed out as blood dribbled out of the not-quite-that-deep-but-deep-enough gash. Mai pressed the tatters of her ruined sleeve to the wound, staunching the flow, for wont of anything else to do it with. _Not like the maids could have saved it anyway,'_ she thought, suddenly giddy, watching as her blood seeped into the silk. _'Don't think I've bled this much since I cut myself learning to throw the tri-blade…'_

Her forearms were starting to ache, bruised from the beating they had taken. Surveying the wreckage of her treasured gauntlets about her feet, it occurred to her that, _'Mother would be happy to see them gone, if she were here.'_ Giving her head a hard shake, Mai headed toward the curtain.

Pulling the hanging aside revealed a door, as expected. The room beyond was dark as a closet and Mai could not make out where Sharanya might be skulking.

"If you've decided to be cautious, don't do it standing in a doorway with the sun behind you," Sharanya's voice spoke from the gloom. "Come in and sit down." _'If I were going to kill you, I would have done so a dozen times already,'_ Mai understood. Tossing her head back, a knife at the ready, Mai entered the room, ready for anything.

"Open the blinds, if you don't mind," Sharanya said from her left. Mai whirled, sensing the close air of a wall behind her, blinking to rid her eyes of sun-induced blindness. There was light in the dark after a few seconds, from the door she had just come through, but also seeping through cracks in the wall at her back; a window.

"Trading a door for a window isn't much better," the matriarch chided, a squat shadow amid other shadows. "I understand your pride's been wounded, but now you're just wasting my time. Put that knife back in its holster, open the blinds, and sit down."

Mai ground her teeth, but there really was nothing she could do; no matter where she moved, Sharanya had her pinned. _'That's what you get for waltzing into the spider-snake's nest.'_ She found the lever for the blinds and raised it, squinting as the sunlight poured in and revealed the dimensions of the room.

Small, narrow, maybe half the size of her sunroom back home. Sharanya sat in a low-backed chair at the far wall, a knee-high table and another chair, both carved from rosewood, arranged between her and Mai. The polished planks of the teak floor gleamed dark-streaked copper and gold bars where the sunlight touched. _'Wonder how long it took the servants to get it like that.'_ On the other hand, people did not hide trapdoors under such expensive floorboards. The walls were spotless, white-washed, sectioned by evenly-spaced columns of dark wood along the length; no seams that Mai could see, so no trapdoors or peepholes. An alcove of sorts sank into the wall at her right, probably housing a philosophical scroll and a flower arrangement. She could only expect as much from a traditionalist like Sharanya. _'Also, a good place for hidey-hole.'_

"If you're done finally paying attention your surroundings…" Sharanya reached for the teacup in front of her, a clunky cylinder of pale clay at first glance, but a masterwork of porcelain at the second. A second, similar cup waited for Mai on the table.

Mai bowed slightly, slipping her knife back into its holster before moving toward the second chair. As she passed the alcove (which contained the expected scroll and but not the flower arrangement), she noted the inscription painted on the cloth and could only smirk: _'"Accordance with the right leads to good fortune; following what is opposed to it, to bad, the shadow and the echo." In other words, bow your head and swallow your tongue, and don't bother thinking for yourself. Sounds exactly like what someone like her would live by.'_

"You disapprove of Prince Yu's sentiments?"

Mai slid her chair back and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. "I think Prince Yu is correct to advise obedience," she said in her best Academy classroom recitation voice, "but I wonder which authority he deems worthy of submitting to."

Sharanya rolled her teacup between her hands. "Good answer," she said at last, "but mind the sarcasm. It's not nearly as well hidden as you think."

Mai breathed out, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Of course, that quote is often taken out of context," Sharanya continued, as though they were seriously discussing the philosophies of men whose bones had turned to ash centuries ago. "Prince Yu was cast out of his homeland and forced to wander the outer islands with his people as a result of a disastrous civil war. He wished to caution future rulers of the dangers of pride. _'Do not carry out plans, the wisdom of which you have doubts. Study, that all your purposes may be with the light of reason. Do not go against what is right, to get the praise of the people. Do not oppose the people's wishes, to follow your own desires…'_ and so forth. Do you know which authority he might be referring to in that case?"

There was only so far Mai was willing to take a charade, once the curtain went down. "Is there a point to this?" she asked with purposeful blandness. "You broke my gauntlets, insulted me to my face, and now you expect me to sit here cheerfully drinking tea and discussing outdated moral philosophy?"

"Yes." Sharanya placed her teacup on the table. "You are a noblewoman of the Sun clan. I expect you to pull up your big girl skirts, smile charmingly in your enemy's face, and figure out a way to outwit them. Or am I asking too much of you?"  
Mai glared.

"I suppose so." The matriarch leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting nearly closed. "Do you mind binding up that hand of yours properly? Not that the servants can't clean it up later, but I don't see the point of foisting unnecessary work on them."

"Isn't that what servants are for?" Mai retorted. "And what, exactly, am I supposed to bandage it with, anyway?"

Sharanya's lips thinned. "You shouldn't think so little of servants, yours or otherwise. They're still people, and oftentimes, far more capable and useful than you give them credit for. Also, there's a medicine chest under the table. Everything's freshly prepared, don't worry."

Warily, Mai reached under the table, her fingers first meeting a shelf, then a small wooden chest. Pulling it out and placing it beside her untouched teacup (who drank cold barley tea anymore, but peasants and old people?), she raised the lid and found everything she would need to tend to her wound, and then some.

"Were you expecting to do something more drastic?" she asked, pulling the tourniquet out between a finger and thumb.

Sharanya shrugged. "Just to be sure, you might want to try stitching up that scratch. It might fester in weather like this."

Mai dropped the tourniquet with a grimace and extracted a vial of ointment. Pulling out the cork produced a strong stench that made her eyes water. "Garlic?" she demanded. "What am I, a farmer?"

"Not just garlic, but mashed sungold root as well," Sharanya corrected, apparently amused by Mai's reaction. "Why spend gold for a fancy tincture or rare oil when something that's saved lives for centuries can be had for a few coppers?"

_'You'll get yours one day, you damn hag!'_ Mai promised herself. A thought occurred to her, and it took a bit of effort not to smirk.

"Oh, good," Sharanya said unexpectedly. Mai paused in the midst of dunking a wad of rolled bandage in her tea to stare at her. "You found use for something right in front of you. Maybe you're not as hopeless as I thought."

_'Damn it!'_ Mai swabbed her wound, hard enough to get it bleeding again. Cursing inwardly, she hurried to smear the noisome ointment over her skin, swathing it in gauzy bandage until she could no longer smell it. Or, smell as much of it, at least; her other fingers still reeked of garlic.

"Please, allow me." Sharanya tapped her cane on the floor. The wall to her left slid aside (_'So much for there not being any trapdoors…'_) and the old serving woman from before stepped into the room, a bowl of what smelled to be rose water in her hands and a pristine linen towel over one forearm. Without prompt or ceremony, she placed the bowl in front of Mai and offered her the towel.

Mai almost did not take it, but between making a childish gesture for pride's sake and not smelling like a sack of onions in a marketplace, she figured her pride could stand one more bruise for the day. She reached for the towel.

"Kushen, she needs your attention."

"Yes, mistress."

"Wait, what are you…?" Mai demanded as the woman seized her by the wrist, her grip gentle but unyielding as prison manacles, baring skin already mottled with dark bruises. Before Mai could protest further, a sudden cold glow filled the room, as if the moon had temporarily descended to push back the sunlight. Cool, scented water swirled around Mai's forearm, leeching the ache and the ugly black marks from her skin, Kushen's other hand guiding its path.

"Your other arm if you please, Lady Mai," the servant said.

Bemused, Mai raised it, staring at the water that stayed suspended around the woman's hand without any apparent effort. She said nothing as Kushen removed her remaining glove and played the water over her bruised skin, removing all evidence of Sharanya's attack.

_'Not __**quite**__ all, actually…'_

"Mistress, shall I also heal the wound she bandaged?"

"No." Sharanya waved her away. "She put her own effort into treating it, she deserves to know if her ability pays off. However, you may see if you can find another tunic for her."

"Yes, mistress." With one last bow, Kushen withdrew.

"Ever wonder why the Fire Nation never bothered to attack the Northern Water Tribe until Ozai let that Zhao fool lose nearly an entire fleet to kill a fish?" Sharanya asked before Mai could say anything.

"Not… really…" Mai admitted, too bewildered to lie.

Sharanya sighed. "Such is the quality of national education these days. You can look it up on your own time."

The corner of Mai's left eye was beginning to spasm. "Thank you for your attention, Great-grandmother," Mai said, bowing to the matriarch and swallowing the epithet she very dearly wanted to tack on.

"I'm not the one you should thank," Sharanya said. "Yuming must not have instructed you in proper manners as well as I was led to believe."

Mai straightened, clamping down on a sudden spike of hot anger. "I apologize for the deficiencies of my mother's instruction."

Sharanya raised an eyebrow. "Do you?" she replied softly. "You don't think very much of your mother, or your father, not now, not even when they were alive."

"I obeyed their rules. What more did I owe them?"

The matriarch was quiet for a long time, but Mai refused to budge, refused to be stared down by those cold amber eyes. "I see," Sharanya said at last. "And this faulty mask you always wear, your disdain for everything around you, these things are the result of _their_ instruction?"

"Isn't it?" Mai sneered. "They raised me to be this way."

"They're _dead_," Sharanya said, her eyes suddenly open, the cold amber piercing. "They've been dead for at least two years, and yet their ghosts still haunt you. How long are you going to allow the dead to decide how you live your life? You hide yourself away, absorbed in self-indulgent pastimes and maudlin affection, running away from the world you were born into and must live in. Do you really think you have no effect on anyone else around you?"

"Why do you care?" Mai hissed, straining to keep from shouting. "You only want to force me to start acting the way _you_ think is right."

Sharanya did not respond right away, and it was harder this time for Mai to force herself to stay silent, to stay still, to keep her mask from cracking yet again. How could anyone do that, taunt her about her parents' death, belittle her love for Zuko? "You endanger the clan with your recklessness and your inattention," Sharanya finally said.

"What do I care about the clan?" Mai demanded. "What has the clan ever done for me?"

Sharanya cocked her head, her voice soft. "Then you consider what Fa did, risking himself, Chyou, and her son, to pull you and that half-Lài twit out of your prisons after you betrayed Princess Azula, to be of no consequence?"

"Of course not!" Mai snapped. "But he did that on his own, I didn't ask him to! And Azula couldn't do anything to him, or Chyou, she was…!"

"Stark raving mad? Sending people in to "exile" and making them disappear, never to be seen again, at a whim? What do you think it took for Fa to get you out of the Boiling Rock?"

"I…" Mai bit the inside of her lip, breathing deeply. "I don't know."

"You don't know, or you don't care?" Sharanya retorted.

Mai did not answer.

"Very well." Sharanya reached for her teacup. "All things considered, I cannot absent myself from your present course." She held up a hand, staying Mai's protest. "You have the support of the Sun clan to marry Fire Lord Zuko, _on the condition_ that you play your part."

"And what part might that be?" Mai asked sarcastically.

"Bait." Sharanya's lips pulled up into a feline smirk. "The enemies of the Sun clan and the Fire Nation are already circling you. When they move to strike, we will entrap them. You needn't do a thing; in fact, you are free to put this entire conversation from your mind and continue playing concubine to the boy. _I_ will take care of the nasty shadows." She sipped her tea. "If you have nothing else to say, you may go."

Mai hesitated, more than eager to leave, but hating to be dismissed so casually. _'Do you really think that she's going to let it drop here? She__** has**__ to have something else up her sleeve.'_

_'If she has anything else to say, she knows where to find me.'_ It sounded pathetic rather than defiant even in her own head. Mai got to her feet, intending to go out the way she had come in.

"Of course, you are also free to try and defend yourself, perhaps even learn something about your opponents and build alliances on your own," Sharanya mentioned, as if just remembering. "You'll need these, in either case..."

The false wall slid aside, revealing Kushen standing at the ready. Instead of a towel and a bowl of water, she had a plain red cotton tunic over one arm and a large wooden chest which Mai recognized in her hands.

"How did you get that?" she demanded, stepping toward Kushen to seize the precious object.

"Oh, so there are other things in this world you're at least sentimental about," Sharanya observed, unfazed. "But it's not the one your mother gave you. Go on, lift up the lid."

Mai had not bothered to wait on the matriarch's bidding. Her eyes went wide. _'They're…!'_

"You'll find them lighter and easier to load than the older model," Sharanya said as Mai lifted a metal gauntlet from the silk-lined chest. Instead of encasing the whole forearm in wood, the gauntlet was composed of a five-cylinder array over a steel-plated upper guard that would fit from her mid arm to just below her wrist. The cylinders were stockier than those of her now-destroyed gauntlet; Mai's eyes happened to fall on the inside of the chest's lid. Row upon row of bolts, constrained by a simple bronze cap at their ends, lined the lid. _ 'Load five at once, instead of one at a time… effectively, a repeating magazine.'_ She had long since given up devising such a system for her own weapons.

Two thick collars of leather padded the steel bands that would secure the gauntlet around her arm. A second guard, narrower than the once mounting the firing mechanism, bridged the bands, giving the mechanism a little more heft and stability. Turning it sideways, Mai scrutinized the firing and locking mechanisms: high torsion steel springs, much smaller than those in her old pair of gauntlets. _'Smaller, but stronger; amazing what they do with alloys nowadays,'_ Mai assessed after a testing tug at the thumb loader. _'But it's either-or, firing-wise: one bolt, or the whole magazine at once. It's basically the Tateng ballista in miniature. But, how…?'_

"You'll want to practice disengaging the locking gear on the greaves before wearing them in public," Sharanya advised, placing her empty cup on the table and picking up her cane. "Nothing more embarrassing than pinning the hem of your robes to the floor because you didn't walk softly enough." She stood, raising an eyebrow at Mai's astonished expression.

"My dear Great-granddaughter, who did you think dispatches the White Lion-Dog to bestow her claws?"

* * *

**A/N:** Other than Hama, there is a distinct lack of kick-ass grandma's in _A:tLA_. Sharanya is a character type that I've always wanted to work with: intelligent, politically savvy,and someone who will not hesitate to inform you that you're being an idiot (or beating you senseless, if that's what it takes). Question is, is her approach the right one to take to get Mai to accept all the political nastiness and social posturing required of a Fire Lady?

**Add.:** The "Prince Yu" Sharanya quotes is an allusion to a character in my A:tLA "legends" fic, _**Tales of the Spirit World: The Fall of the Blue Spirit**_ known as "Elder Yu." I quoted the _Shang Shu_ ([尚書] aka _"The Classic of History"_) dated back to China's Spring and Autumn period (772 BC - 476 BC). The specific passage (modified for the story), is found in _Counsels of the Great Yu_ [大禹謨], stanzas four and five. [trans. by James Legge]


End file.
